


It's Easier, It's Kinder

by camwolfe



Series: It's Easier, It's Kinder [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Pain, Disordered Eating, Drug Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Revenge, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 55,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwolfe/pseuds/camwolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has a list of assassinations to complete, and it's not his problem if Tony Stark is on the top of that list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! As always, please read the tags before reading this! This isn't what I wanted it to be, but it is what it is and I hope you enjoy it if you read it. You all know how much comments and kudos mean to me, but I'll say it again anyway. I appreciate it so much, and please feel free to let me know what you think. The title of this is from "The Enemy", by Mumford and Sons because I'm SUPER CREATIVE like that. Please forgive any typos or spelling errors, like always.

At least Stark picked nice hotels for his events.

He’d been in this room for twenty-eight hours now. The event still wouldn’t officially start for another full hour, but he’d wanted to be here early. Conveniently, this entire hotel has been designed around the large atrium in the center of the building. Instead of looking out at the street below, the rooms were designed so that the windows had a view of the atrium. 

Particularly convenient for a sniper.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He was lying on top of the desk that he’d pushed against the window hours before, staring through the scope of his rifle. His eyes felt itchy and tired, and all of his muscles were twitchy. Admittedly, that was probably the result of the combination of the cocaine and energy drinks he’d been consuming for the last fourteen hours. He’d run out of both by now, which was a mistake on his part. He’d underestimated how quickly he’d burn through both the drugs and the caffeine, but the more he took, the more he needed.

Either way, it was too late to get more now. The only reason he’d made it into this hotel room undetected was because he’d shown up more than a day before. The catering and decorating trucks had already been ferrying things into the kitchens and the main atrium, and it had been easy for Bucky to walk right in with his bag thrown over his shoulder. He’d ducked away from the chaos of the main floor and headed for the stairs, picking a hotel room that he’d assumed would have the best view. The new flimsy electronic locks that hotels used were easy enough to open. Even the deadbolts were no match for the casual strength of his left arm, and he’d long since learned how to break the locks while making sure they looked fine from the outside.

He’d been in the room since then. The actual occupant of the room had shown up ten hours ago, but Bucky had heard him struggling with the broken door lock and knocked him out the moment he’d stepped into the room. The man was now tied up in the bathroom, bound and gagged so tightly that even Bucky could barely hear the sound of him trying to yell. The man was a low-level guest, but he could still be useful later. The minor annoyance of the man’s whines were insignificant compared to that. The man’s laptop was also nicer than the one that Bucky currently had, and Bucky had spent a few hours scouring the internet for the information he needed.

If he’d done it all correctly, and he was pretty sure he had, Tony Stark should be here in less than an hour. According to the press release, the only other Avengers in attendance would be Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov. They were potentially a problem, but Bucky knew this hotel’s layout well. He’d have time to take Stark out and still make it out of the hotel in time. They were good, there was no doubt about that, but he was better. He also had the advantage of being the one doing the killing, rather than trying to prevent it.

The atrium down below was starting to become more crowded. Waiters bearing plates of tiny appetizers were starting to move around the room, darting around the beautifully dressed guests and their entourages. Stark wasn’t here yet, but Bucky could be patient.

Photographers were already snapping photos of the guests as they mingled. The flashes of light were irritating to Bucky’s too-sensitive eyes, but he shrugged it off. Again, a minor annoyance. He’d had worse.

The security stationed around the room was good, but not great. Bucky had chosen this event specifically for this reason. Stark was merely one of the many contributors to this particular charity, meaning he was not allowed to bring his entire security force with him. Bucky had staked out a few events at Stark tower before, and there was no way he’d be able to operate as efficiently as he needed to at an event held there. The security for this event was enough to keep the guests from getting too rowdy or from fans becoming a little too enthusiastic. Maybe even for an amateur assassination attempt.

Bucky was not an amateur, and this was not an attempt.

He didn’t seen Barton and Romanov arrive, but that didn’t surprise him. They were suddenly just… there, blending in with the crowd. They were dressed just as nicely as the other guests, although it didn’t fool Bucky. They’d be almost as armed as he was.

The sudden swell of noise from outside let Bucky know that Stark had arrived. Sure enough, he came through the entrance a moment later. Between the cameras flashing and the dramatic light show he’d set up, it would have been hard to miss his entrance. He had the CEO of Stark Industries on his arm, and she waved and smiled politely.

Bucky frowned. She was standing between him and Stark. Bucky had no doubt that he could hit Stark from this distance, but his hands were shaking from a combination of the drugs, the caffeine, and the lack of sleep. He was confident in his abilities, but he also knew his limits. He wasn’t as good as he normally was, and there were innocent people at stake.

He could wait.

Stark was moving around the room, greeting guests as he went and waving his arms around excessively. He finally found Barton and Romanov, and both he and Potts spoke to them for several minutes. Bucky continued to wait. Stark needed to be –

Bucky scowled, his hands tightening on his rifle. Steve Rogers was suddenly standing next to Barton and Romanov, smiling and talking. His friend Sam Wilson was with him, and they all looked like they were having a nice time.

God fucking damnit.

Rogers was not supposed to be at this event. Bucky had checked, he had _specifically_ made sure that Rogers would not be attending.

Bucky forced himself to take a deep breath and relax his muscles again. Rogers wouldn’t be by Stark’s side the whole night. He’d move on. Bucky would have his chance.

Sure enough, Romanov took Rogers’ hand and pulled him over to the bar. Bucky forced himself to stay forced on Stark, and not to follow Rogers with his scope (just to keep an eye on him, of course).

Stark was on the move again, easily making his way through the crowd with Potts by his side. Bucky followed him as he moved.

They were with another group of guests now, smiling and shaking hands. It looked like more charity benefactors, nothing he –

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest. The man that Tony Stark was currently shaking hands with was Royce Linwood. Linwood was older than he’d been the last time Bucky had seen him, but it was unmistakably him. He’d know him anywhere.

He clearly remembered Linwood watching him with mild interest from the corner of the room as they’d held Bucky down. Linwood had only come to see him because he “wanted to see what he was buying before he paid full price.”

They’d already demonstrated Bucky’s skills with a gun, a rifle, a crossbow. Hand-to-hand combat. Murder, assassination. Everything a potential employer could want.

Apparently, that hadn’t been enough. Linwood had wanted to see how the infamous Winter Soldier would respond to pain.

The technicians working that day had politely informed Linwood that they were not authorized to cause any physical harm to the Asset that would permanently affect his functioning, but they had many other methods at their disposal.

Bucky didn’t know why Linwood wanted him, back then. Didn’t know where he was, or when it was. But he knew enough to know that Linwood wanted him to scream, and so scream he did. Some people wanted him to stay silent while they tortured him, and Bucky could do that too. He held out just long enough to see the interest in Linwood’s eyes start to dim, and then he’d screamed until Linwood had nodded.

He didn’t know what Linwood’s mission had ended up being. He remembered walking back into base covered in blood, blood that wasn’t his own. Linwood had been pleased with the task, and he’d used Bucky twice since then.

He never would again.

Bucky forced himself to take another deep breath. Linwood was not the target. Linwood was on the list, but much further down than Stark. Taking out Linwood would compromise the plan, and the chances of getting Stark as well as Linwood dropped significantly. Bucky couldn’t risk that.

But still.

He _hated_ Linwood.

He remembered meeting Linwood’s eyes, even as the electricity raced across his body and his muscles contracted and spasmed. He’d memorized every inch of Linwood’s face, the cruel lines of his mouth and eyes.

Bucky blinked. Stark was waving someone over as Potts and Linwood chatted happily. Bucky forced himself to keep Stark in his sights, not Linwood.

Rogers was making his way through the crowd now. Stark placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him over to stand next to Potts. He was clearly introducing him to Linwood.

Bucky’s muscles tensed again, and he could feel his heart rate starting to spike. His thoughts grew louder, and his vision became tinged with red.

Rogers smiled politely and held out his hand. Linwood took it, smiling. He didn’t deserve to shake Rogers’ hand, he didn’t deserve to be in his presence, he didn’t deserve anything –

Bucky pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a good, clean hit. Linwood dropped to the ground, and Bucky immediately swung to the right to hit Stark.

As he’d expected, everything was now much more complicated. Faster than Bucky had even anticipated, Rogers grabbed Stark and Potts and shoved them down. Bucky’s next shot just grazed Stark’s shoulder.

Bucky swore in Russian as he swung himself up and off the desk.

He left everything in the room. He had no time to pack his equipment back up. He’d made a mistake, and now he’d have to pay for it.

He couldn’t really bring himself to regret it.

Bucky was already out of the room by the time he heard the screams start from down below. Bucky ran down the hallway, reaching out with his left arm and slamming straight into the door leading to the stairs. This was not the time for subtlety or stealth.

He jumped straight over the railing without hesitating. He dropped down four floors before he grabbed another railing. The force of his sudden stop jarred his shoulders and his ribs, but Bucky ignored the sharp spike of pain and swung himself up onto the landing.

He burst through another door, heading straight down a similar generic hallway. A civilian woman leapt out of his way, and Bucky charged past her.

He was running so quickly that he didn’t have time to stop when he saw Romanov slide out from around the corner.

She tripped him, and he slammed full speed into the wall. He was on his feet on an instant, but so was she.

He was stronger, but she was faster. He kicked her in the stomach, and tried to make a run for it as she hit the wall. She lunged forward again, though, and grabbed his ankle. She pulled his feet out from under him again, using the garrote she’d produced from somewhere to tangle his legs.

Bucky swung his arm at her, managing to catch her on the side of her face. It knocked her back to the ground, and he was almost back on his feet when he felt something slide into his neck. Bucky swung his arm again, this time catching Barton in the ribs. Barton too stumbled back into the wall, and Bucky pulled the syringe out of his neck. He could already feel the effect of the drugs seeping into his muscles. Making him slow. Making him weak.

There was no way in hell Bucky would go out without a fight. Not again.

Romanov was yelling something into the watch on her wrist, but Barton was already reaching for Bucky again. Bucky snarled and lunged at him, using his strength to body-slam Barton back into the wall. He felt, rather than heard the air go out of Barton’s lungs, but Barton still managed to get him in the ribs with another one of those fucking syringes.

Bucky’s legs gave out and he dropped back to the ground. Romanov was on top of him then, snapping something around his left wrist. He screamed as the electricity raced up his arm, more from anger than pain as the electricity sparked and left him with nothing but dead weight. He scratched at her with his right arm, but his muscles felt swollen and clumsy. His vision was starting to blur, and there were more people around him now. Holding him down, injecting him with more drugs.

He struggled, even then. Even when his vision began to darken and he felt more restraints being snapped around his arms and legs.  

People were yelling all around him, and it hurt his ears. The pain and the noise was too much, but Bucky preferred it to the darkness he was sinking into now.

He’d prefer anything to that.

 

He woke up somewhere cold and quiet.

Bucky stayed still as he felt his mind claw its way back to consciousness. The room was silent and still, and he couldn’t feel any movement around him.

He snapped his eyes open, taking in the room in an instant. He was lying on his back in an empty room, the floor strangely soft beneath him. The four walls surrounding him were a dark grey, although they were clearly one-way glass.

There were no longer any restraints on his legs or his right arm. His left arm still had some sort of device wrapped around it, leaving it powerless and useless.

Bucky slowly climbed to his feet, stretching carefully as he did so. Some pain in his ribs, and a little in his right arm. Nothing too drastic. Nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own if given enough time.

He gave the room a once-over, searching for weaknesses. As he’d expected, there were none. He could see the outline of a door in one wall, but he knew better than to assume that it wasn’t locked with at least several deadbolts. If his arm was working, he might have a chance to break through.

As it stood? He’d have to wait.

He dropped to his knees on the soft floor, sitting back on his heels. He let his head fall forward, although he didn’t close his eyes. Sitting would have been more comfortable, but it also took him longer to stand up. He could stay like this for days if he had to. He’d done it before.

Bucky couldn’t see through the glass, but he could hear the sound of voices arguing outside. Some of the voices rose and fell, although he couldn’t pick out what they were saying.

He waited.

After about an hour, a beeping noise let him know that an intercom had turned on. A moment later , someone starting speaking.

It was a female voice, calm and professional. Bucky didn’t move.

The voice assured him that no harm would come to him here. Bucky wanted to laugh at that.

It went on to ask him a series of questions. Why did he kill Royce Linwood, was he working for anyone, if so who was he working for.

The usual.

Bucky ignored it all. His next target (after Tony Stark) was a man named Gary Auberon. According to Bucky’s research, he was living on a ranch in Montana.

He spent the next few hours going over his plans for Auberon. He’d have to do more research, of course, although he’d have to get hold of another laptop and preferably a few more guns. It was irritating that he’d had to leave all of his stuff in that fucking hotel room. Although it was also irritating that they’d caught him at all.

Finally the voice seemed to realize that Bucky was not going to answer any of her questions. She stopped talking, and Bucky was left to think in peace.

Some time later, he heard the familiar sound of food being delivered. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a panel in the wall open to reveal a tray of food and a bottle of water.

Bucky ignored it. He didn’t like eating at the best of times, let alone someplace like this.

The people outside the room were arguing again. Bucky wished they’d just come to a decision already. He was bored and twitchy from the lack of drugs and caffeine, not that it showed on his face.

One of the people outside was definitely Steve Rogers. Bucky recognized his voice easily, although he couldn’t quite figure out how he knew it. Steve Rogers was one of the ones arguing, not one of the ones trying to calm everyone down. He still couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Finally the voices died down and moved away. Bucky still didn’t move. He was tired by now, his eyes itchy and his thoughts scattering.

Hours passed. Bucky stayed where he was.

 

It was another few hours before Bucky heard the distinctive sound of footsteps outside the door. Whoever it was, they were definitely running.

Bucky stayed where he was, but he glanced at the door. Loud bangs came from the other side of it, and the door shuddered with each one.

Bucky genuinely hadn’t expected this.

With one more loud crash, the door flew inwards and Steve Rogers stumbled into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [cameronwolfe.tumblr.com](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com) !


	3. Chapter 3

He was dressed in street clothes, just jeans and a dark jacket. He had his shield over his arm, though, which must have been what he was using to break the locks on the other side of the door.

Bucky lifted his head and stared at him. Steve stared back.

“Bucky?” Steve asked.

“What are you doing?” Bucky said, his voice rough. He’d also spoken with a Russian accent, which was annoying but couldn’t be helped.

Steve was still staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m, uh… we have to go.”

That wasn’t an answer, but Bucky jumped to his feet and ran past Steve over the ruins of the door.

The room beyond was fairly empty, with just a few chairs and tables scattered around. A door on the other side of the room was propped open with another chair.

Bucky bolted for the door, Steve right behind him. The door led into a stairway, new and modern and bright.

Bucky skidded to a halt, turning around. Steve stumbled into the stairwell right behind him, his eyes still wide and fixed on Bucky.

“Which way?” Bucky asked. His voice still held a hint of a Russian accent, and he scowled because of it.

“Up,” Steve said. Bucky didn’t wait for him to say anything else.

He turned and slammed his left arm onto the stair railing as hard as he could. The device keeping his left arm dead shattered, and Bucky bit back a scream as it rebooted. He kept moving.

The stairwell was narrow. Bucky jumped up onto the railing of the landing they were on and then leapt up. He grabbed on to the railing of the next floor with his left arm, swinging himself up. He jumped from that landing to the next, and continued until Steve shouted “that’s it.”

Bucky jumped down onto the landing and waited for Steve to catch up. He came up the stairs the normal way a moment later. This door was propped open with another chair, and Bucky just kicked this one out of their way. It slammed shut behind Steve.

This door opened onto a long hallway.

“Jarvis?” Steve said as he ran behind Bucky. “Any chance of you not telling Tony about this?”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” a voice said. “But our security protocols require that I inform Mr. Stark.”

“Figured,” Steve said. “Thanks anyway.”

By the time they reached the door at the end of the hallway, it was trying to slide closed again. It had nearly crushed the chair that Steve had left to keep it propped open.

Bucky leaned in and braced his back against the doorframe. He pushed back at the door with his metal arm, and the door slowly inched its way back into the wall.

“Go,” Bucky said once there was enough room in the doorway. Steve pushed the chair out of the way and ducked behind Bucky into the room beyond.

Bucky threw himself to the right and let the door slam shut.

They were in what looked like the lobby of Stark tower. The front wall of the lobby was all glass, and Bucky narrowed his eyes at it. He could probably –

“Don’t,” Steve said. He was running towards the doors instead. “That glass is made to stop a rocket launcher.”

Bucky frowned but followed him. Steve pulled something out of his pocket and waved it at a small black box on the side of the door. A little green light flicked on, and Steve pushed the door open.

The two of them ran out into the night.

Steve paused on the sidewalk, turning to look at Bucky. Bucky turned and ran across the street, cars slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting him. He had to jump off the hood of one of them, but he made it across.

Bucky kept going, block after block. He took a lot of back alleys, and rooftops if he could.

He knew that Steve was following him, which is why he stopped and waited at the entrance of the building. Sure enough, Steve skidded around the corner a moment later. He was still holding his shield, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes at how conspicuous it was.

Steve walked up to him, still watching him warily. Bucky turned and walked into the building.

He held the door open when it was clear that Steve didn’t know if he should follow or not. After a moment, Steve followed him up the stairs with a muttered “thanks.”

Bucky led the way up the stairs. It was dim and musty in the building. Trash was strewn all over the stairs and each floor. A few people were curled up in the hallways of the building, their faces hidden by the blankets and sleeping bags piled over them. They didn’t look up as Bucky and Steve went by.

They finally reached the door Bucky wanted. He shoved it with his shoulder to get it open, holding it open for Steve again. Steve hesitantly stepped passed him, his face wary.

“This is where you’ve been staying?” Steve asked as Bucky shoved the door shut behind him.

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered. He went over to the pile of supplies near one wall, pushing a blanket aside to find the flat of water bottles he’d stolen a few days earlier. He pulled two out, tossing one to Steve without looking.

“Thanks,” Steve said absent-mindedly. Bucky leaned against the wall and slid down it, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. He took the cap off his water bottle and took a swig of it, watching Steve wander around the room.

It was small, with only a few ratty pieces of furniture strewn about. The windows had long since been covered up by tinfoil or fabric, and the ones that weren’t were smeared with dirt and dust. The floors were scuffed and filthy, and the sole table was nearly black with grime. There was a small washroom through another door, although it was just as dirty as the room itself.

Steve was staring with concern at the small pile of Bucky’s stuff. There were a few notebooks piled on top of each other and some old energy drink cans. There were a few syringes lying around the room, which weren’t Bucky’s. There were also a few nearly-empty bags of cocaine scattered about, which were.

“You can’t stay here,” Steve said softly.

Bucky glared. “I can stay wherever I want to.”

“Right,” Steve said quickly. “I know. I’m sorry. I just meant… did you see the sign on the door? Outside?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He took another drink of water. “They aren’t knocking this place down for another few weeks. It’s fine.”

Steve frowned, absent-mindedly resettling his shield on his arm. “Well, yeah, but… they’re knocking it down because it’s full of asbestos.”

Bucky stared at him. “What the fuck is asbestos?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes still searching the room. “Some kind of insulation. Apparently it’s bad for your lungs.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “My lungs have had worse.”

That was true, Bucky realized as he spoke. There was that time in Albania, where the mission had literally blown up in his face and scarred his lungs for weeks. He hadn’t been able to cough, either, because the men he was working with told him to shut up. So he had –

“Still,” Steve said. “Bucky… we can help you.”

“Don’t need help,” Bucky said as he finished his water.

Steve frowned again, still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. “I… Bucky, was it you? In that hotel?”

Bucky waited for him to finish.

Steve seemed to steel himself. “Did you shoot Linwood? And Tony?”

“Yes.”

Steve stared at him. “Why?”

Bucky reached over and grabbed the nearest energy drink. He tossed his water bottle aside and cracked the lid open on the can instead. “He was on the list.”

“What list?”

“My list.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Who else is on the list?”

Bucky took a swig of his energy drink. “A lot of people.”

“Including Tony Stark?”

“Clearly.”

“Why?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You ever stop asking questions, Rogers?”

Steve stared at him. “Not in this situation, no.”

Bucky sighed, but he figured he could cut off this line of questioning if he just answered Steve’s questions. Not to mention that he had a feeling Steve would not stop asking until he got what he wanted.

“The 1996 Linwood Corporation purchase,” Bucky said. “And the 2001 Stark Industries deal.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know what those are.”

“Most people don’t.”

“But because of those… you tried to kill Tony?”

“Yes.”

Steve looked out-of-place in the musty room, with his bright shield and his clean clothes. “Who was the Stark Industries deal with?”

“Hydra,” Bucky said calmly.

“What?” Steve said. “No. Tony would never do a deal with Hydra. Tony would never have anything to do with Hydra.”

Bucky shrugged and took another swig of his energy drink. “Well, he did.”

“No,” Steve said again. “He…”

Bucky finished his drink and tossed the can aside, getting back to his feet. “I need to go.”

“Where?” Steve said helplessly. His face was pale, and his hand was clenched tightly on the straps of his shield.

“Montana,” Bucky said as he grabbed the notebooks off the table and shoved them into his jacket. He pushed another blanket aside and grabbed the remainder of his knives and his last gun, shoving them all into his clothes as well.

Steve wasn’t staring at him anymore. His gaze was fixed on the floor.

Bucky headed to the door, but stopped and turned back slightly. “Why’d you break me out?”

“What?” Steve said, raising his head a little.

“Why’d you break me out of there.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Because they tied you up and threw you in a cell in the basement of Stark tower.”

“I tried to kill Tony Stark.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “But I figured you had a good reason for it. And I didn’t think…”

Bucky waited.

“I didn’t think you deserved to be in a cell anymore.”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, well. Anyway, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve said, still staring at the floor. He was frowning.

Bucky turned and went back out the door, leaving it open behind him. He dodged a man lying on the stairs with a needle beside him, and brushed past a woman who reached for him as he walked past.

The sun was up by now, and pain shot through his head as the light hit his eyes. Bucky winced and stepped into the shadows of the building for a moment, pulling his hood up over his head. He wished again that he hadn’t chopped his hair off in a fit of rage one night. He used to be able to shield his eyes with it.

Once his eyes adjusted and the pain subsided a little, Bucky started walking again. There were still only a few people out at this time of the morning, and most stepped out of his way as he walked past. He still watched each one of them from under his hood, though. He could never be too careful. Admittedly, the woman with a baby strapped to her chest and a small dog on a leash didn’t look much like a threat, but Bucky knew better than to assume.

He only made a few blocks before he heard familiar footsteps behind him. The ways in which Steve was familiar to him was frustrating, mainly because he knew when it was familiar but didn’t know _how_ it was familiar, if that made any sense. It sure as hell made it easier to tell who was following him, though.

Bucky sighed and turned around, stepping back into the shadows. He leaned against the cool brick of the building and waited. Sure enough, Steve rounded the corner a minute later. He was still carrying his shield, which was conspicuous as fuck. It was a good thing he hadn’t been recruited into a spy program or some shit like that, instead of a super-soldier one. He’d make a terrible spy.

“What do you want?” Bucky asked sharply as Steve came to a stop a few feet from him.

Steve looked tired. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re following me so you must have some idea.” Bucky was still speaking in a Russian accent, although it was staring to fade the longer he spoke to Steve. He liked that. He didn’t like the Russian accent.

“I don’t,” Steve said again. “You’re going to Montana?”

“Shh,” Bucky said impatiently. Steve had a loud voice. “And yes.”

“Can I come with you?”

Bucky blinked. He honestly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

Steve frowned. “Because… because I miss you.”

“Why?” Bucky said again. He was frowning now, too.

“Uh,” Steve said, staring at him. “Because… I do? Because I thought you were dead, and then suddenly you weren’t and then you were gone again and now…”

“Well, now I’m here,” Bucky said. He noticed the security camera in front of one of the buildings across the street, and a red-light camera on the intersection nearby. This was too public, too exposed. He needed to go. “What are you going to do if I say no?”

Steve shrugged. “Go back to the tower, I guess. Probably get yelled at by everyone for helping you get out. I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t try and stop me?”

“No,” Steve said with a frown. Bucky believed him, which was ridiculous because Bucky never believed people but he believed Steve and _fuck_ that was so frustrating. “Of course not.”

“Fine,” Bucky said abruptly. “Good answer. Come on.”

Bucky turned and started walking again, but not before he saw Steve’s face light up like the fucking sun.

“Really?” Steve asked as he followed Bucky down the sidewalk.

“No, Rogers, I’m just fucking with you,” Bucky said as he finally reached the car. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked it, pausing as he opened the door. Steve was standing on the other side of the car, his face uncertain again.

“Jesus, I was kidding,” Bucky muttered. “Get in the goddamn car, Rogers.”

He didn’t look over as he got into the driver’s seat and started the car, but he was pretty sure that Steve was smiling again.

Steve carefully put his shield in the backseat, and then hastily buckled his seatbelt as Bucky hit the gas and wrenched the car out into the street.

Steve was quiet until they were almost out of the city.

“You don’t have your phone on you, right?” Bucky asked abruptly.

“No,” Steve said. “I left it at the tower.”

Bucky focused on getting out of the city alive, which was tricky considering the abnormally large number of terrible drivers in that goddamn city.

“Whose car is this?” Steve asked a few minutes later.

“Don’t know,” Bucky said as he sped through another intersection. Steve braced his hand against the dashboard. “Stole it a few days ago.”

“Oh,” Steve said, and then fell silent again.

They finally made it out of the city and could speed up, with long stretches of interrupted highway ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

“You know what I’m going to Montana to do, right?” Bucky asked. He glanced over at Steve, who was somehow still watching him.

“I think so,” Steve said carefully.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m going to murder someone, Rogers.”

He snuck another glance at Steve, but Steve was still watching him calmly. Albeit with a small frown.

When Steve didn’t say anything, Bucky continued. “I’m going to find a better gun, and I’m going to sit back and wait. And then when I see the guy, I’m going to blow a hole straight through his head and watch him bleed out in the dirt.”

Steve didn’t blink, so Bucky continued. “If I can’t find a better gun, I’m gonna have to do it at closer range. Or maybe I’ll just strangle him, watch him gasp for air. I could just crush his larynx with my hand, that’s probably the easiest. Not as messy. I could stab him. That’ll be bloody though. I mean, my personal preference was always just to slit their throats. It’s a good way to send a message. Some people prefer it because it’s a good way to get revenge. Your victim gets the chance to look at you as they die. Some people like that.”

Steve was still staring at him impassively, clearly waiting for him to finish. Bucky was kind of disappointed. He’d at least expected his face to get a little more pale or something.

“So,” Bucky said, his eyes fixed on the road. “You’re the guest of honour. You get to pick the method.”

“It’s not my place to choose,” Steve said.

Bucky shrugged. “Fine. Your loss.”

Steve just kept fucking staring, and it was making Bucky a little uncomfortable. He’d spent so long staying silent, staying as quiet as he could, and now he just couldn’t stop talking.

“The great Captain America, fine with murder,” Bucky said ruminatively. “Wouldn’t have guessed that one.”

“I’m not fine with murder,” Steve said. He finally stopped looking at Bucky and turned to stare out the window instead.

“You’re letting me do it.”

“It’s…” Steve said slowly. “Look, I’d rather that we go find these people on your list and then turn them in.”

“To who?” Bucky asked, his hand tightening on the wheel a little. “Whose doorstep should I be dropping them on?”

“Shield is – “

Bucky snorted, and Steve stopped.

“Fine,” Steve said. “Not Shield. Not now. The police, then. The CIA, I know someone who’s working there now.”

“What are they going to do?” Bucky asked. “There’s no paper trail. There’s no evidence, unless you know where to look. And either the CIA or the police or the FBI or whoever you want to call doesn’t know, or they don’t care enough. Either way, nothing’s going to happen.”

“We could-“ Steve tried.

“We could what, Rogers,” Bucky said, suddenly feeling tired. His headache was getting stronger again. He wished he’d had the time to buy more coke or energy drinks or something before they’d left. “We do it your way, the best case scenario is that this guy sits in jail for the rest of his damn life. That’s assuming that his friends or lawyers or whatever don’t come and get him out. Either way, he’s still pulling the strings in there. Making stuff happen. Hurting more people, because that’s what people like this fucking do. I stop him, he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Or you,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky’s hand tightened on the steering wheel again. “This isn’t about me.”

Steve was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “What did he do?”

Bucky was still scowling, but he made himself loosen his hand in case he broke the steering wheel. “Montana guy?”

“Yeah.”

“His name is Gary Auberon,” Bucky said. “Rich as hell, made his money off of real estate back in the 80’s.”

“Real estate?”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like an illicit business.”

“It’s not,” Bucky said, his jaw tightening. “His business and his money is all legitimate.”

“Then…”

“It’s what he does in his personal time,” Bucky said. He hoped that the sharpness of his voice and the fact that his Russian accent was getting stronger again would stop the conversation in its tracks.

But because he’d invited fucking Steve Rogers along on this little road trip, of course that didn’t happen.

“What does he do in his personal time, then?”

“You don’t want to know, Rogers,” Bucky said.

“But – “

“Shut up,” Bucky snarled. It surprised both him and Steve, but Steve at least fell silent. Bucky’s head was louder now, his headache pounding and his thoughts screaming at him in a myriad of languages. He was so fucking angry again, and he was tired and in pain and he wanted to just be in goddamn Montana already and get this over with. He didn’t want to be here, in this too-small car with goddamn Steve Rogers who was way too complicated and just made his head hurt more and was also just so fucking calm and fucking logical. He was so tired that his vision was kind of sparkly around the edges and he couldn’t keep a train of thought going, just like when he fell off that goddamn train and oh wow, isn’t this just a great time for him to get that memory back! He could have done without that one, he really could have but no, his stupid fucking brain chose the best times to bring those great memories back –

“Bucky?”

He was so fucking TIRED and he just wanted to sleep, just for once, but he knew better than to do that and fucking hell, how many people did he have left? Six? He thought he was down to six, but he’d have to think about it some more just to make sure, because sometimes he forgot and that was annoying as fuck but there wasn’t anything he could do about that, save for writing it down. But people could crack even the best code and Bucky had never been all that great at writing in code in the first place, it was far too dangerous to write it down even if he kept the notebook on him at all times –

“Bucky!”

Bucky blinked and forced himself to take a breath. Air rushed back into his lungs, and his vision cleared a little. The peaceful scenery outside the car window seemed to be going by a little too quickly, which Bucky thought was a product of his own fucked-up head until he realized that the gas pedal was pressed to the floor. He’d also crushed the steering wheel where his left hand was gripping it.

“Shit,” he muttered, easing off the gas and loosening his hand. He forced himself to take another deep breath in.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked quietly.

“Fine,” Bucky said under his breath.

Steve was quiet for another few moments before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

“Whatever.”

Bucky’s glare seemed to curtail Steve’s desire for conversation, so the next hour was spent mercifully quiet.

Steve politely asked if Bucky wanted to stop and get food somewhere, but Bucky ignored him and Steve didn’t press the issue.

They only stopped a few hours later when the gas gauge was getting dangerously low. Bucky pulled into a small gas station on the side of the highway and slammed on the brakes next to the pump, startling Steve from the nap he’d been taking. Which was ridiculous, in Bucky’s opinion. No one in their right mind would fall asleep in a car with a dangerous assassin inches away.

“Fill the car up,” Bucky muttered. He got out of the car, stopping only to throw the keys at Steve.

He went into the gas station to use the washroom and to grab more energy drinks. The bored gas station attendant looked a little affronted at the way Bucky just threw the cash on the counter, but the glare Bucky shot him stopped him from saying anything.

Steve was standing next to the car waiting when Bucky came back out.

“I have to pay inside,” he said. Bucky pulled another wad of cash out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

“I can pay,” Steve protested, but Bucky just waved him off and went back around to the driver’s side.

He leaned against the car as Steve went inside to pay for the gas, forcing himself to take another deep breath of air. He was so tired, still, although the energy drinks he’d bought should help a little.

Steve came back out carrying a bag of chips and a few chocolate bars.

“Want some?” he offered as they were back on the road. He’d already set the rest of the cash Bucky had given him in the cupholder.

“No,” Bucky said.

“You sure?” Steve asked. “You aren’t hungry?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky muttered, cracking open his new energy drink and chugging half of it in one go.

“Well, if you want some, just ask,” Steve said, his voice doubtful. “How long is this trip?”

He was clearly trying to draw Bucky back out in conversation. It wasn’t really Steve’s fault that Bucky’s mood had changed so quickly, but Bucky did not feel like talking right now.

“It’s about two days if we don’t stop,” Bucky said after a moment.

“Are we going to stop?”

Bucky thought about it. He hadn’t planned to, but he needed a shower and he needed some time to get some more intel on Auberon. Not to mention that he had a feeling that Steve would continue to politely nag him until they did.

“Maybe,” Bucky allowed, and that appeased Steve for the next hour.

 

Steve didn’t say anything, but his stomach was growling by the time the sun started to set. Bucky sighed and pulled off the highway, slamming on the brakes outside of a generic fast food place.

“Go get something to eat,” Bucky muttered. “The noises your stomach is making is pissing me off.”

Steve looked at him in surprise. “You want anything?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Uh, thanks for stopping then.”

He started to get out of the car, and Bucky realized that he’d finished all of his energy drinks.

“Coffee?” he called after Steve. Steve waved at him and disappeared back into the restaurant.

He came back with a large cup of coffee and a bag full of food. Bucky scowled as the overpowering smell of fried food filled the car, but he took the coffee from Steve and started the engine again.

“You must be hungry,” Steve said, after a few more minutes on the road. “Please, Buck.”

Admittedly, Bucky was getting a little dizzy. That could have been from the amount of caffeine he’d been consuming. Or the lack of sleep. Or the pain in his head. It was hard to tell, most times.

Either way, it was starting to effect his driving a little and he couldn’t have that.

“Fine,” Bucky snapped. The tone of his voice didn’t seem to offend Steve, who smiled and started digging through the bag of food.

“We’ve got hamburgers, fries, chicken wings…”

“Just…” Bucky said. “Just the bread.”

Steve stared at him. “Just the hamburger bun? Not the actual hamburger?”

“Yeah.”

Steve frowned, but took the bun off the hamburger and handed it to him. Bucky took a small bite of it and then set it down on his lap so he could take another sip of coffee.

It took Bucky over an hour to eat the hamburger bun, but Steve thankfully didn’t say anything else about it. Bucky did actually feel a little better after eating.

 

“Do you mind me calling you that?” Steve asked a while later.

“What?” Bucky asked. He’d been lost in his own head.

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Do you mind me calling you Bucky?”

“No,” Bucky said. “Why would I?”

Steve shrugged. “Sam said that I should ask. When we found you again. Because you might not want to be called that anymore.”

“It’s my name,” Bucky said firmly.

“I know,” Steve said, but Bucky was pretty sure he was smiling.

 

The smile dropped off his face pretty quickly, though, and Steve turned to stare out the window. The silence from him seemed unusual to Bucky, and it actually made him a little uncomfortable. In the very short time that Steve had been in the car with him, Bucky had gotten used to Steve’s questions and his obsessive staring.

“I need to call Natasha,” Steve said after a few more minutes of staring out the window.

“Romanov? No.”

“Its fine,” Steve insisted. “I’ll call from a pay phone.”

“So? They can track the pay phone.”

“We’ll be long gone by the time they do!”

“They’ve got jets, and we’ve got a shitty car with a bad transmission.”

“They’re not going to send the quinjets after us.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well, no,” Steve said. “But I need to talk to her.”

“About what?”

“About… about what you said. About Tony.”

Bucky scowled. “I’m not lying.”

“I didn’t say you were!” Steve protested. “I just don’t think Tony would ever willingly work with Hydra.

“You think or you hope?” Bucky asked.

“Think,” Steve said firmly. “Well, and hope. But I need to talk to Natasha about it first.”

“If you want to call Romanov, then I will pull over and you can get out. And then I will drive away and you can go call her.”

“Any chance you’d come back for me?”

“No,” Bucky said.

Steve sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I… okay, look, I won’t call her. At least not now.”

Bucky had a feeling that Steve wouldn’t compromise any more than that. “Fine.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and Bucky finally sighed.

“I’ll try and figure out a way for you to contact her without revealing our location,” he said.

“Really?” Steve asked happily. “Thanks, Buck.”

It was ridiculously easy to make Steve Rogers happy.


	5. Chapter 5

“Are we gonna stop for the night?” Steve asked. He was staring hopefully at the run-down hotels that lined the highway.

“No.”

“Oh,” Steve said, a little sadly. “Okay.”

They didn’t need to stop. Steve could sleep in the car, and Bucky was fine. They’d make better time this way.

 

Of course, Bucky fell asleep two minutes later.

One moment he was staring at the road ahead of them, and then suddenly the tires were squealing and Steve was leaning over him and grabbing the steering wheel. The car screeched and pulled back onto the road. Bucky slammed on the brakes and knocked Steve’s hand off the wheel.

The car skidded to a halt, and Bucky pulled over to the side of the road. The cars behind them blared their horns as they drove by. Bucky glared at them.

“Bucky…” Steve said slowly.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He was focusing on trying to get his heartrate back under control.

“Maybe we should stop for the night,” Steve said carefully. “You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to, but maybe we could just… rest for a while?”

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, and almost fell asleep again. His head nodded down towards his chest, and he had to force his eyes to open.

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay.”

He was pretty sure Steve breathed a sigh of relief, but Bucky ignored him and pulled back onto the highway.

They stopped in the next small town they came across. Bucky picked a generic hotel near the highway, and waited outside the car for Steve to get a room.

Steve waved at him through the window. Bucky pulled his hood up over his head again and went into the lobby, following Steve through the hallways and the stairwells.

The room was bland but clean, with two beds and a small washroom. A desk against one of the walls even had a few free water bottles lined up against it.

“This isn’t bad,” Steve said. “The beds look all right.”

Logically, Bucky knew that the room was not going to be bugged. He still checked anyway.

Steve sat on one of the beds and started flipping through the room service menu, pretending not to watch Bucky circle the room.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Bucky said when he finished.

“Okay,” Steve said, still sitting on the bed.

Bucky locked the door behind him, even though he was pretty sure that Steve wouldn’t try to get in. He turned the water on and stripped off his clothes, examining his bruises and cuts in the mirror. There were a few dark bruises spreading over his ribs and his collarbone, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a few days. His ankle was slightly swollen from where Romanov had grabbed it and twisted, but nothing felt out of place in it. That too would heal.

Bucky stepped under the water, not closing his eyes as the freezing water washed over his face. It woke him up a little, dragging his tired brain back into reality.

The hotel soap was scentless, to Bucky’s relief. He’d stayed at a few places that only had ridiculous fruity-smelling soap, which he assumed was fine for general guests, but not for assassins that needed to not draw attention to themselves.

He grabbed one of the threadbare towels when he was finished and dried himself off, grimacing as he pulled his clothes back on. He’d need to pick up new ones. These ones were torn and sweaty, which would draw attention.

“All yours,” Bucky said as he left the washroom. Steve went to take a shower as Bucky checked the room’s security a second time.

Steve wandered out a few minutes later. Bucky was sitting at the desk, taking the tv remote apart.

“Man, that water is freezing,” Steve said as he came out of the washroom, rubbing at his hair with a towel. “I’ve gotten kind of used to having hot water wherever I go. It didn’t bother you?”

“No,” Bucky said shortly. Having established that the tv remote was not bugged, he dropped it back on the desk and stood up. “I’m going out.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Okay. Uh, do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” Bucky said.

He shut the door behind him, leaving Steve standing in the hotel room. He took the service stairs down and out the back of the hotel, pulling his hood up over his wet hair.

 

The town was small and quiet, but they still had a few large department stores a few blocks from the hotel. Bucky easily broke into the nearest one. There was a security guard who mostly sat near the door reading the newspaper, but he was so easy to avoid that Bucky didn’t even bother to take him out.

He grabbed a new duffel bag and stuffed it with a few more water bottles and granola bars. He took a new laptop and its power cord from the electronics section, and then headed over to clothes. He grabbed himself some new generic jeans and another hoodie. Tucking a plain black jacket under his arm, Bucky ducked out the back door again.

He changed in the alley behind the department store, throwing his old clothes into the dumpster. He headed back to the hotel, but doubled back when he noticed a man lingering beside a closed video-rental store.

Sure enough, Bucky ended up trading a large chunk of his cash for all the cocaine the man had on him. He took it right then and there, ignoring the look of alarm on the man’s face.

“Dude,” the man said. “You’ve done this before, right? Doing that much at once… that could kill you, man.”

Bucky tossed the empty plastic bag back at him. “Thanks.”

Steve definitely noticed the change in Bucky’s clothes and the duffel bag under his arm when Bucky walked back in, but he tactfully didn’t say anything. He was still sitting on the bed, a newspaper open in front of him.

“Hey,” Steve said.

Bucky grunted at him in response, pulling the laptop out of his bag and turning it on.

“You want to get some sleep?” Steve asked. “I could stay awake and keep watch, if you want.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said.

Steve watched him for a moment. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Bucky was very awake now.

“All right,” Steve said doubtfully. “I’m gonna take a nap, then. Wake me up if there’s a problem?”

“Okay,” Bucky said. Steve stretched out on the bed nearest the door, not pulling the blankets over him.

Bucky was pretty impressed with how quickly Steve fell asleep. He went back to his research, scouring the internet for anything more on Auberon.

There wasn’t much. Eventually the twitching in Bucky’s muscles and the whirring of his thoughts got to be overwhelming, and he dropped to the floor to do push-ups. Quietly, of course, so he didn’t wake Rogers.

By the time the cocaine had started to burn its way out of his system, which wasn’t long, Bucky was feeling tired again. There was no avoiding it this time, he knew.

Bucky sat at the desk and carefully set his watch for twenty-one minutes. He then rested his head on the desk and closed his eyes. He dropped into sleep immediately.

His watch started to beep twenty-one minutes later, and Bucky snapped back awake. He turned his watch off and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wake himself up. His body desperately wanted to drop back down into sleep, but Bucky knew better than to let himself do that.

He paced the room a few times, keeping an eye on Steve to make sure he didn’t wake up. He felt better, having had that small nap. He went back to his laptop.

Bucky was still staring at the screen when Steve twitched on the bed. Bucky looked over at him, frowning. Steve was clearly having a nightmare, sweat starting to run down his face.

“Rogers,” Bucky said. When Steve didn’t respond, Bucky picked up one of the small plastic cups on the desk and tossed it at him.

It landed gently on Steve’s chest, but that was enough to make Rogers sit bolt upright and scramble forward so that he was standing on the floor, his chest heaving and his eyes wide.

Bucky stared at him. “Sorry,” he said. “You… you looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Steve closed his eyes. “Oh. Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said, returning his gaze to his laptop. He heard Steve sit back down on the bed again.

“Sorry,” Steve said after another few minutes. “Thanks for waking me up.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky repeated.

Steve lay back down on the bed for a while, but Bucky knew he wasn’t asleep. Steve finally got up and put his coat back on, shoving his feet into his shoes.

“I’m going to go grab some breakfast,” Steve said. “Do you want anything?”

“Coffee,” Bucky said. “Please.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Can I get you something else as well, though? Some food?”

“Stop trying to make me eat, Rogers.”

Steve sighed. “Sorry. I just… I’m worried that you aren’t eating enough.”

Bucky didn’t look up from his computer. “Why?”

Steve sighed again. Steve never seemed to stop sighing. “Because I care about you, Bucky. I want to make sure that you’re all right.”

Bucky had to stop himself from asking ‘why’ again. “Go get your fucking breakfast, Rogers.”

Steve left without saying anything else, and Bucky took the opportunity to check the room again.

 

Steve returned a while later, with another bag of fast food in his hand and a coffee in the other.

“Here,” Steve said, holding out the coffee.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered. He opened the lid and inhaled the delicious scent, trying not to smile. He loved coffee.

“I brought you a breakfast sandwich,” Steve said hesitantly. He set the sandwich down on the table beside Bucky’s laptop. “You don’t have to eat it. But it’s yours if you want it.”

Bucky scowled at him, and Steve ignored him and went back to sit on the bed. Bucky turned his scowl to the sandwich.

Bucky had to admit that he was feeling pretty awful. Some of that was probably from the massive amounts of cocaine and caffeine he was consuming, combined with the drastic lack of sleep. And the lack of proper nutrients.

He took the bread off the top of the sandwich and ate it slowly, letting it melt in his mouth before he swallowed. He made it all the way through both slices of bread and some of the cheese before his stomach started to twist uncomfortably, and Bucky stopped eating again. Rogers still looked happy, though.

“We should get going,” Bucky said abruptly. He shut the laptop and tossed it into his new duffel bag.

“Okay,” Steve said, his mouth full of sandwich. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

It took Steve too long to get his shoes and coat back on and finish his sandwich, so Bucky turned and walked back out to the car. He threw his bag in the backseat and leaned against the car, watching the parking lot. The sun had just risen, and it was already hurting Bucky’s eyes again. His eyes were gritty and painful, and also kept closing against his will. His shoulders and his back were bothering him more today, which he had to assume was from the long hours he’d spent sitting in the car yesterday. The dull pain that constantly criss-crossed his head was getting worse, although hopefully the coffee he’d just downed would help a little. His thoughts were more scattered than normal, today. All of this was not allowing for optimal functioning.

“Good to go,” Steve said cheerfully as he joined Bucky next to the car. “I checked us out of the hotel.”

Bucky got into the car and started the engine. Steve seemed to be in a much better mood than yesterday, after his shower and sleep and breakfast.

The pain in Bucky’s shoulders and head got worse as they drove. He let his left arm rest in his lap and drove with just his right arm, but his right arm was sore from his fight with Romanov and Barton and complained just as much as his shoulders.

Pain from his left shoulder started to crawl its way upward into his brain, making his headache worse. His vision was getting a little blurrier, too, and that didn’t make for great driving.

Steve kept asking him if he was all right, although Bucky had tuned him out. He was so goddamn tired, and they still had so far to go before they got to fucking Montana.

The muscles in his back around his left shoulder suddenly spasmed, and Bucky bit down on his lip to keep from screaming. Fucking hell, it hurt.

He pulled over to the side of the road and turned the engine off. He rubbed at his shoulder and his neck with his right hand, his eyes closed.

“Can you drive for a while?” he asked. The thought of giving up control of the car made him feel sick and panicky, but the alternative was to check into another hotel and that would just waste more time.

“Yes, of course,” Steve said quietly. Bucky dragged himself out of the driver’s seat and walked around the car, having to lean on the hood as he went. Steve was staring at him worriedly, but Bucky ignored him and slumped into the passenger’s seat.

“Just follow this highway,” Bucky muttered.

“Okay,” Steve said. The car started, and Bucky curled in on himself on the seat.

His mind drifted as they drove. He could feel himself dipping in and out of unconsciousness, but he was too on edge to let himself nap.

Sitting like that was surprisingly restful, though. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the engine and Rogers’ breathing beside him.


	6. Chapter 6

He felt a little better by the time they stopped for lunch. Steve went into another fast food place to get some food, and Bucky stood outside and leaned against the car. He took some more deep breaths, forcing his body to relax. They weren’t that far away now, and then he’d have another name crossed off his list.

Steve came back out with another bag of food. He handed a sandwich and a coffee to Bucky and sat down at the picnic table next to the car. Bucky set his coffee on the roof and pulled part of the bread off the sandwich.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, both of them looking out over the fields that led down to a forest a few miles away. Steve was probably admiring the view. Bucky was looking for threats.

“Bucky?” Steve asked.

“What,” Bucky said as he washed down a small piece of bread with a swig of coffee.

Steve was staring at the picnic table, his hands idly turning a bottle of water over. “What are you going to do when you’re finished with your list?”

Bucky waited until Steve looked up, then mimed sticking a gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. He finally succeeded at making Steve turn an unhealthy shade of white.

“Bucky…” Steve said slowly. Bucky ate another tiny piece of bread and waited.

Steve finally seemed to pull himself together. “Bucky, you… you don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Bucky said. He frowned a little.

“Then…”

“I want to,” Bucky said calmly. He tentatively took a small bite of the actual sandwich and then set it back down on the hood of the car.

“Why?” Steve said, a little desperately.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at him. “You really want to get into this, Rogers?”

“Yes!”

Bucky sighed. “Well, I don’t. Finish your food, I want to go.”

Steve’s good mood was clearly gone. He sat silently in the car next to Bucky for the next few hours, staring out the window. Bucky drove and daydreamed of getting some rest.

“Are we going to stop tonight?” Steve asked as the sun started to set.

“No,” Bucky said. “We’re almost there.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Okay.”

Bucky glanced over at him. Steve was frowning.

“You don’t have to come, Rogers,” Bucky said. “I can drop you off at the next hotel. Or right here. You can call your friends, get them to come pick you up.”

“No,” Steve said hastily.

“Well then, take that look off your face,” Bucky said. “I told you what I was doing. I didn’t ask you to come along.”

“I know,” Steve said.

“I don’t know what you were expecting, Rogers,” Bucky said as he took an exit off the highway. “Well, I mean, I do.”

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” Steve asked. He sounded tired.

“When you asked to come with me,” Bucky said. He was feeling chatty again, and his voice had some life in it for once. “And when you tracked me all across Europe and Russia. Although, I mean, the trail of dead people should have tipped you off a little.”

“Bucky…”

“But I mean, I know you were hoping for some deep revelation or something. For your dead best friend to rise from the ashes, suddenly return to you with open arms and probably lots of tears.”

“That’s – “

“And instead you’re stuck with this,” Bucky said. “Road-tripping with an unstable murderer who doesn’t have anything to say that doesn’t involve death.”

“Bucky,” Steve said sharply. “That’s not true.”

Bucky shrugged. “Does it bother you? Using my name?”

Steve had his arms crossed over his chest. “What? No. Why would it?”

“Well, using it in reference to me, I mean. It is weird having to call me Bucky? I don’t mean the person you remember. Obviously you’d call him Bucky.”

He wasn’t sure if that sentence even made sense, but Steve seemed to understand it.

“You said you wanted to be called that,” Steve said. His voice was uncertain.

“I do. It’s my name. I’m wondering if it bothers you to have to call me that.”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Steve said slowly.

Bucky took a left turn at an intersection, and the road narrowed. “I mean… okay, Rogers, tell me about what I used to be like.”

“When?”

“Before the war. Or during. Whichever.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, Rogers.”

Steve sighed. “You were… you were kind. Friendly, too. Everybody you met liked you. Cheerful. You were really popular with the girls. You hated working but you had three jobs anyway…”

Steve trailed off.

“Keep going,” Bucky said.

“He – “ Steve tried, and then immediately stopped.

“Ha,” Bucky crowed. “Knew it.”

“Bucky, no,” Steve said. “I just – I’m used to talking about you in the past tense, okay?”

“Just admit it, Rogers,” Bucky said. “To you, I’m not the same person as your old pal Bucky.”

“You are,” Steve insisted.

“Nothing you just said is applicable to me,” Bucky said calmly. Feeling nothing at all was quite useful in arguments like this.

“Okay, well, I’m mentioning all the good things about how… how you were. And that… Bucky, you asked me to talk about how you were before the war. You were a kid, Bucky! So was I! Of course you’re different now. I’m different too.”

“No,” Bucky said quietly. “No, you aren’t, Rogers. Not like I am.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I know, Bucky. I’m not… I’m not going to try and compare what I went through to what you did. I know they aren’t similar.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky said. “You get the point I was trying to make?”

“Not really.”

Bucky breathed in through his nose. “I’m trying to say that I know that you’re disappointed. And I’m giving you an out, Rogers. I’ve told you several times now. You can leave. Go home.”

“No.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re here.”

They were drifting down a narrow dirt road into a valley, surrounded by gently rolling hills. There was a single cabin sitting at the edge of the forest, near a small river.

“This him?” Steve asked as they drove towards the house.

“Yes.”

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asked, shifting in his seat. He looked uncomfortable. “You’re just going to drive up to the house and murder him?”

Bucky shrugged. “Got a better idea?”

Steve didn’t say anything.

Bucky stopped the car near the house. He shrugged off his jacket and hoodie, leaving himself in just his jeans and t-shirt. He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

Gary Auberon threw open the door to his cabin, walking out slowly with a rifle held high.

“Who are you?” Auberon shouted. “This is private property.”

Bucky lifted his left arm. The moonlight reflected off the metal, and Auberon nearly dropped his rifle.

Bucky was suddenly very tired, and he had no desire to do any of the gruesome things he’d described to Steve earlier.

He pulled the handgun out of his belt and shot Auberon in the head.

The man dropped to the ground in the mud in front of his cabin.

Bucky lowered his gun and clicked the safety back on. He shoved it back in his belt.

“Bucky?” Steve asked.

He blinked. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there for, but now Steve was standing in front of him and the lighting in the valley had shifted a little.

“Are you all right?” Steve said.

Bucky laughed, and Steve frowned.

Bucky turned and walked back to the car. Steve cast a glance back at the body lying in the mud.

“Leave it,” Bucky said as he opened the car door. “The wolves will get him.”

Steve didn’t say anything as Bucky drove back up the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you SO much for the comments and the kudos. I love comments. Seriously, please please please tell me what you think. I will reply and tell you HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you okay?” Steve asked as they merged back onto the highway.

“Yes.”

Steve sighed. “Is this worth it, Bucky? Is killing these people… is it actually going to make you feel any better?”

“No,” Bucky said. “It’s not. Do you really think I’m doing this to make myself feel better? They’re dangerous, Rogers. They’re dangerous and awful and they deserve to be dead. They can’t hurt anyone else if they’re dead.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be the one to kill them.”

Bucky tightened his hands on the already-damaged steering wheel. “No, but who else is going to do it? I’ve got enough blood on my hands, Rogers. Doesn’t matter if I add more to it. No one else needs to get their hands dirty because of this.”

Steve sighed. “It does matter, Bucky. I know that you said there’s no paper trails on these people, no evidence. But if you let us help you, maybe we could find some. Stark has – “

“Stark is on the list!” Bucky shouted, startling both himself and Steve. “He’s on the goddamn list, Rogers! What don’t you understand about that?”

“I do understand that,” Steve said. His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. “But I also don’t have all the facts about that, Bucky! I’m not saying you’re lying, I’m just saying that I need to talk to Tony about this deal with Hydra!”

“Because you don’t believe that he’d do that.”

“Yeah, I don’t, Bucky! I don’t believe that Tony would do that, I don’t believe Pepper would do that. I don’t think that Natasha and Clint and Bruce would agree to work with him if they knew about it!”

Bucky laughed. “You have such a naïve view of these people, Rogers.”

“I’m not being naïve.”

“Well, then you’re just being an idiot.”

Steve looked frustrated. “You’re planning to assassinate someone I consider a friend, Bucky! It’s not idiotic to try and prevent that from happening!”

Bucky smirked. “There we go. That’s why you came along, isn’t it? So you can try and talk me out of killing Stark?”

“No!”

“So you’re going to let me kill him.”

“Bucky!” Steve protested. His face was turning red, and his jaw was tight.

“Yes or no?”

“No,” Steve said.

“See?” Bucky said smugly. The smirk on his face seemed to be making Steve angrier. “So what’s your plan, Rogers? You’re going to stay with me for the next while, until I get to Stark? And then what?”

“Bucky – “

“Well, you’re going to try and stop me, that’s pretty obvious. But that isn’t going to work, and then we’re going to be right back where we started. Beating the shit out of each other until one or both of us is dead. Who knows, maybe it’ll actually stick this time.”

“Stop it,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “That isn’t how this is going to end.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come on then, Rogers. Tell me how it’s going to be different. Tell me that my life isn’t going to end in the same pain and blood that I’ve brought with me everywhere I’ve been.”

“It’s not! Bucky, if I can prove to you that Tony had nothing to do with Hydra, will you take him off your list?”

“Yes,” Bucky said immediately. “I’m not going around slaughtering innocent people.”

“I know that!” Steve said.

“Well then,” Bucky said. “Prove it to me. You’ve got time. Stark’s last on the list. It’s no skin off my back if you end up being right.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “And you’re sure of all the others?”

Bucky slammed on the brakes so hard that the tires screamed. Steve’s seatbelt locked, and even then Steve had to brace himself against the dashboard.

“I,” Bucky said slowly, glaring straight ahead. “Am sure.”

Steve was staring at him, wide-eyed. His arms were still braced against the door and dashboard. “Okay, Bucky. I – “

Bucky turned his glare on him. “You really think that I would keep myself alive just to go around murdering people who don’t deserve it?”

“No,” Steve said. “And stop putting words in my mouth. You keep accusing me of things that I haven’t said, and wouldn’t say! I’m not lying to you, Bucky. I’m not trying to trick you or manipulate you, but you keep acting like that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

A truck blared its horn as it had to swerve to avoid them on the dark road. Steve glanced out the back window. “We’re going to get hit.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky snarled. He turned the engine off and ripped the keys out, tossing them aside carelessly. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

“Bucky…” Steve said helplessly as he got out of the car as well. Bucky wrenched the trunk open and pulled his duffel bag out. He grabbed Steve’s shield with his other hand and threw it at him.

Steve caught it easily, his eyes still fixed on Bucky and a frown on his face. “Bucky, what are you doing?”

Bucky laughed again and slammed the truck shut. He braced his hands on it, staring Steve down.

“You are trying to manipulate me, Rogers,” Bucky said.

Steve frowned. “What?”

“Oh, come on. You’re not stupid. Don’t pretend to be.”

“I am not trying to manipulate you!” Steve finally shouted.

“Yes, you are,” Bucky said. He reached down and used his left hand to pull the license plate off the car. “You want me to be… you want me to be the person you used to know. You want me to be docile. Friendly, probably. I get it, I really do. You want your best friend back. Hell, you probably even want me to fuck you again.”

Steve’s face was an interesting mix of white and red.

“I mean, the main thing is that you want me to stop killing people,” Bucky said casually as he shoved the broken license plate into his duffel bag. “I want that too. But we can’t always get what we want, Rogers. Move.”

Steve automatically stepped out of the way. Bucky went around to the side of the car and bent down, lifting it onto its side. He walked his hands down it as it rolled, and then finally shoved it. The car rolled off the road and down the incline. Bucky watched as it crashed its way down towards the forest, finally disappearing into the darkness of the trees down below.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Steve asked. He looked furious.

Bucky shrugged and lifted his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I need a new car. Had that one for too long. It’s too easy to track now.”

“We’re miles from the next town!” Steve shouted. “You couldn’t have waited until we got there?”

“No,” Bucky said. “Besides, I like walking. Spent a hell of a lot of time without fresh air, you know.”

He started walking up the side of the road. He heard Steve taking several deep breaths behind him.

“No,” he heard Steve mutter under his breath. Steve stormed up behind him. “Bucky?”

“What,” Bucky said over his shoulder.

Steve grabbed his sleeve and spun him around. He looked furious, and somehow tired at the same time.

Bucky knocked Steve’s arm off of him. “Don’t touch me,” he growled, and then grinned with delight.

Steve looked confused. Bucky didn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Steve said, breathing more heavily than a slow walk along the highway warranted. “Sorry. But Bucky, you need to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Bucky said automatically.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. I know. That’s fine. But Bucky, please… just hear me out, okay?”

Bucky waited.

“I am not trying to manipulate you,” Steve said. “I want you to do whatever you need to do. Whatever you feel is best for you. I’m not trying to stop you from doing anything, I just want… I just want to be with you, Bucky. I know… well, I don’t know how much you remember about me or how much you know about us, but you’re my friend and I care about you. I always have. And no, I don’t want you to try and kill Tony. You’ll end up hurting yourself, him, and my other friends in the process and I don’t want that to happen. But I also believe that you’re telling the truth, and I will not stop until I find out what actually happened, okay?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Stop doing that!” Steve shouted. “For fucks sake, Bucky!”

Bucky flinched as he felt it sink in. This hadn’t happened yet while Steve was around, hadn’t happened in weeks, and he wasn’t prepared. It wasn’t Steve’s voice that did it, or even the way in which he said it. It was a combination of the ‘stop’ order and his own name, being used together in anger. It had taken him weeks, back when he was still making his way across Russia, to be able to think of his own name without throwing up. It had taken months before he could say it out loud, before he could think of himself as Bucky. He hadn’t realized why, at first. Hadn’t understood it. Then one night he’d tried to practice saying it out loud, his full name, and the memory came back. It was from so long ago, back when he’d still been stubborn and obstinate and himself. Back when he was still a person Steve would have been proud of it. He’d thought about that, then. ‘Steve would be proud of me’, he’d thought with a savage grin as someone kicked him in the stomach. They’d been yelling at him, over and over again. Asking him what his name was, and he told them every time.

He’d given in eventually, of course. Weeks of pain and fear and anger and eventually he’d given up like the coward he was. “I don’t have one,” he’d answered, when they asked again. They’d been happy, but had hit him a few more times just to make sure. He’d locked it away in the back of his mind then, locked away his name because it hurt too much to drag it back up. When Steve had said it, back in Washington, it had felt like knives clawing their way out of the back of Bucky’s brain. It was fine now, it didn’t hurt anymore, but what Steve had just shouted had knocked him back down.

“Sorry,” Bucky muttered automatically. He desperately fought the urge to drop to his knees and lower his head. His skin felt like it was crawling with bugs, pulling him down towards the ground. A weight settled on his shoulders, also pushing him down. It was so heavy and the pull was so strong, but Bucky fought it. He bit his lip, his breathing coming more quickly as he tried.

“I’m doing my best, Bucky,” Steve said. He was still talking, although his words sounded strange to Bucky’s ears. “I’m not… I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?”

“Sorry,” Bucky said again. The pain behind his eyes and the crawling on his skin let up for a moment after he said it.  

“No, it’s… it’s okay,” Steve said desperately. “Just… can we just talk without arguing? I’m not trying to attack you when I ask you something, I just genuinely want to know.”

Steve kept talking, but Bucky wasn’t listening anymore. The weight pressing down on him was so incredibly heavy, and his skin was starting to feel like it was on fire. He clenched his fists as he fought it, Steve’s voice fading in and out of his ears.

He gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, I loVE YOU GUYS


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky dropped to his knees on the grass. He let his head fall forward, his arms hanging limply at his sides. The weight and the pressure and the pain on his skin all disappeared instantly, and he nearly sighed with relief. As much as he hated himself for giving it, it was nothing compared to how much better he felt.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, his voice alarmed.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said.

“Bucky, no, it’s okay,” Steve said frantically. He knelt down in front of Bucky, trying to catch his eye. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

The chill of the damp grass started to soak through Bucky’s jeans. He closed his eyes as another truck roared by them on the highway.

“Please talk to me,” Steve said. “We can’t stay here. It’s dark and it’s cold and we’re either going to get hit by a truck or killed by a grizzly bear.”

“I…” Bucky tried. The attempt to say anything that wasn’t an apology made his skin start to crawl again, but he pushed past it. “I think… I think you could fight a bear.”

“Probably,” Steve said. “But I don’t really want to try it. Bucky, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said automatically, and then winced.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Steve said desperately.

Bucky reached his arm down and braced himself on the grass before he slowly got up. Steve hovered, his face worried.

“You okay?” Steve asked again.

“Fine,” Bucky muttered. “We should go.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Do you want me to take your bag for you?”

“No,” Bucky said as he turned and started walking. “No thanks.”

It took them probably three times as long to get to the next town as it should have. Bucky’s legs felt like lead, and his exhaustion was catching up with him again. He dragged his feet as he walked, each step feeling like an accomplishment. Steve walked beside him in silence, occasionally casting him worried looks.

Steve checked them into the hotel when they finally stumbled into the next small town. Bucky followed him down the halls slowly, the mud on his boots leaving marks in the generic dark carpet. Bucky was too tired to care about it.

“I can go get us something to eat,” Steve said cautiously once the apartment door had shut behind them. Bucky’s eyes were nearly closing with exhaustion, but he was trudging around the room anyway, making sure the windows were secure and that the room wasn’t bugged.

“Okay,” Bucky mumbled.

“Do you want anything specific, or…”

“Don’t care.”

“Okay,” Steve said hesitantly. He set his shield by the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll be okay here until I get back?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He abruptly sat down heavily on one of the beds.

He heard the soft click as the door shut behind Steve, and he finally let his head drop into his hands for a moment. He was so tired.

He eventually got up and stumbled into the washroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He let each item of clothing drop to the floor as he took it off, too tired to set them on the counter.

Bucky forced his eyes back open and stared blearily at the shower. He was cold and tired and in pain, and all he wanted was a hot shower.

He put his hand on the shower faucet. He tried to turn it to the right, but it felt like there was a force pressing back on him as he did so. It just felt so horrifically _wrong_ to turn to the faucet to the right. He gritted his teeth and tried again, but the nausea and fear that swamped him wasn’t worth it.

He turned the faucet to the left and waited for the shower to start. He stepped under the freezing water, gasping involuntarily as it hit his chest. He grabbed the soap and scrubbed frantically at his hands, trying to get clean as quickly as possible.

He was so tired, though. So, so tired.

Bucky leaned back against the wall of the shower, closing his eyes as the water ran down his face and hair. He was so tired.

 

“Bucky?”

He lethargically opened his eyes. Steve was banging on the door.

“Bucky? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said. “Leave me alone, Rogers.”

“Sorry,” Steve said from the other side of the door. “Um, you’ve just been in there for a really long time.”

Bucky frowned. No, he hadn’t. Had he?

He tried to stand up, and frowned again as his muscles refused to cooperate. He didn’t actually remember sitting down, either.

He reached up and turned the water off. A glance at his right arm showed that his skin was deathly white.

Bucky crawled out of the shower and dried himself off, shivering badly as the air hit his skin. He pulled his clothes back on with difficulty, as the fingers on his right hand refused to cooperate.

He put his jacket back on as he left the washroom, even though the hotel room was warm.

“Jesus,” Steve said in horror. He was sitting on the bed nearest the door again. “What happened?”

“No hot water,” Bucky muttered as he sat down on the other bed.

“Clearly,” Steve said. “You look cold as all hell.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said automatically.

“Okay,” Steve said doubtfully. “Anyway, I got some groceries. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I grabbed a bunch of things.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows as he took in the pile of food next to Steve on the other bed.

“Do you like orange juice?” Steve asked. He held out a small bottle of it.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said honestly, but he reached over and took it.

“I know you don’t like to eat, well, really anything other than sandwich bread. So I got a bunch of stuff similar to that, if you want to try some of it. There’s crackers, energy bars, cereal…”

“Cereal?” Bucky asked doubtfully.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I mean, you don’t have to eat it with milk or anything. You can just eat it like a snack. If you want. Or not.”

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled. He felt a little more rested after his impromptu nap in the shower, but not by much. Now he was just cold and achy and tired.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Steve said. “But just take whatever you want. I grabbed a burger before I came back.”

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly.

He waited until the door shut behind Steve and the sound of the shower started. Then he reached over and grabbed a few of the energy bars. He took the wrapper off of one and broke part of it off, eating it slowly.

His eyes were growing heavy again by the time he finished eating the second energy bar. He gave in and set his watch for twenty-minutes, then laid back on the bed and closed his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

He jerked back awake when his alarm went off again, sitting bolt upright on the bed. Steve was sitting on the other bed, watching him with a frown.

Bucky stared at him, his heart rate gradually slowing down as he forced himself to take deeper breaths. He knew that he should get up and out of bed, but he was so incredibly tired and his skin felt like glass.

Bucky ignored Steve’s worried look and set his alarm again. He lay back down, dropping off to sleep almost immediately.

He barely even woke up the next time. He reset the alarm and let himself fall back into sleep again.

Steve was asleep on the other bed when Bucky woke up the next time, but he sat upright when Bucky’s alarm went off. Bucky ignored him again and went back to sleep after resetting the alarm.

That pattern continued for the next five hours. Steve didn’t question what Bucky was doing, just opened his eyes every time the alarm went off and stared at Bucky blearily.

At one point, Bucky slipped into a deeper sleep during one of the twenty-one minute intervals. It could only have been for a few minutes, if that, but he woke up gasping for air. He turned the alarm off on his watch and sat up on the bed, his left hand pushing on his chest as he struggled to breathe.

“Bucky?” Steve said quietly.

Buck ignored him, too busy trying to suck air into his lungs. Fear was running through every bone of his body, and all he wanted to do was either hide or fight his way out of this fucking hotel. Neither of those options were practical for his mission, and he tried to tell himself that as his mind screamed at him.

The sound of a children’s television cartoon reached his ears. It was so out of context for the panic that was racing through his body that it actually shook him out of his thoughts a little.

He latched on to the present moment, clinging to it with desperate fingers. He was in a hotel room with Steve, it was at night but the window was open and there was moonlight and a cool breeze. He was cold but that was normal and was also the fault of the freezing shower he’d taken.

Gradually, his breathing slowed. Bucky looked over at Steve, who was sitting on the other bed with the tv remote in his hand. He looked exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky sucked in another breath. “Yeah.”

Steve nodded tiredly.

“Uh, thanks,” Bucky said slowly. “For…”

He waved his hand in the general direction of the television.

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “I’ve found that it… helps, sometimes. Because there wasn’t tv when…”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. He actually kind of wanted to ask Steve more about it, but then he’d have to talk more and he didn’t have time to talk. He had things to do. His own personal comfort didn’t matter.

Bucky got up and went over to his duffel bag, pulling the laptop out and setting it on the table. He went to work researching his next target, while Steve laid back down on the bed.

Steve didn’t fall back asleep, though. Bucky watched him out of the corner of his eye as he worked. Steve stared at the ceiling for a while, and then finally sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He braced his elbows on his knees and dropped his head onto his hands. He stayed like that for a while, and the only sound in the room was of Bucky typing. Steve finally got up and went over to the food that he’d left on the nightstand, pulling a wrapped sandwich out and eating it. He watched Bucky as he ate, and Bucky studiously pretended not to notice.

Steve finally slipped out of the room around 5 am. He came back a while later, carrying two large coffees. He set one down next to Bucky and went back to sit on the bed.

“Good, you’re back,” Bucky said. “I want to go.”

“Okay,” Steve said tiredly. “Do you want to eat something first?”

Bucky eyed the pile of food suspiciously.

“You could just try the crackers,” Steve said. “They’re pretty good.”

“Fine,” Bucky said. “But then we’re leaving.”

“Okay,” Steve mumbled into his coffee. Bucky tossed the rest of the food into his bag and then sat on the bed with the package of crackers. They were plain and didn’t taste like much, but they didn’t make his stomach hurt like everything else did. He ate the entire package without noticing, and then frowned when he saw there were none left.

“There’s a few more packages,” Steve said. He looked happy. Tired, but happy.

“Hmm,” Bucky grunted, and then grabbed his coffee and bag and stood up. “I’m going.”

Steve went to check out of the hotel, and Bucky went to steal another car. It didn’t take him long at all, and he was already waiting in the truck when Steve came out of the hotel.

“This is a little bigger,” Steve said as he climbed into the passenger seat, still holding his coffee.

“Listen to the engine,” Bucky said as he stepped on the gas. The engine roared as they drove out of the parking lot, much more loudly than was necessary.

“That’s obnoxious,” Steve said calmly.

“I know,” Bucky said. “It’s great.”

Steve laughed, and Bucky turned to look at him in surprise. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Steve smile at all, let alone laugh. Then again, Steve could probably say the same about him.  

“Where are we going next?” Steve asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Oregon,” Bucky said.

“Okay,” Steve said. “How far is that?”

“About another two days.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to come,” Bucky reminded him.

“I know. But I’m going to anyway.”

“Fine.”

Steve stretched out comfortably in the passenger seat, sipping his coffee slowly. Bucky alternated which arm he had on the steering wheel, although the pain in his back and neck wasn’t even that bad today. He just felt a little strange, which was probably a result of how much sleep he’d gotten last night.

It was a cold morning, but the sun was shining through the windows of the car. Steve set his coffee down in the cupholder and promptly fell back asleep, which made Bucky shake his head. He could reach over and kill Steve without even getting out of his seat, and yet Steve was sleeping peacefully like he didn’t have a care in the world. Bucky couldn’t understand it.

They stopped for lunch in a small town along the highway. Steve went to get himself some food, and Bucky pulled another package of crackers out and ate it slowly. Steve brought him another coffee, and Bucky tried to make it last a little longer this time.

“I went to the library yesterday,” Steve said once they were back in the road.

“Congratulations,” Bucky said.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I, um… I looked up Gary Auberon. While I was there. On the computer.”

Bucky’s next snarky answer caught in his throat.

“And, um… so his family died, huh? In a car crash? And then he got married again and had more kids and then…”

“And then they all drowned in a horrific yacht accident at sea,” Bucky finished for him.

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky waited, but Steve didn’t say anything else.

“I told you not to look that up,” Bucky said. His hand tightened on the steering wheel.

“No, you didn’t,” Steve said with a small frown. “You told me I didn’t want to know. Which, I did, actually.”

“Well, I meant that I didn’t want you to look that up.”

Steve rubbed at his forehead. “Bucky, if I’m going to watch you murder someone… I mean, I just have to make sure that – “

“Make sure that what?” Bucky interrupted. His voice was growning colder again, and louder. “That I’m not slaughtering innocent people? I thought we went over this already.”

“We did! I just wanted to check – “

“Check what?” Bucky asked. “Check what it was that made Auberon worth killing? Come on, what else did those articles you read tell you?”

Steve looked uncomfortable. “I mean, there wasn’t much… there wasn’t any foul play suspected either time.”

“Ah, that’s because I’m great at what I do,” Bucky snarled. He was furious again, and he didn’t really want to be but he couldn’t seem to stop it now that he’d gotten started. “Of course there wasn’t any foul play suspected. Do you wanna know, Rogers? Wanna know more about Auberon?”

“Yes,” Steve said firmly.

“Which one do you want to hear about? There’s a couple of them. I mean when I killed his first wife and kids, that was just a trial run. Run of the mill car crash. Super easy, I was in and out in less than a day.”

Bucky was pleased to see that Steve had started to clench his jaw more tightly, and was staring determinedly out the front window.

“The second time he hired me though, wow, was _that_ ever a different story. He specifically asked for it to be traumatic and horrible. He wanted them to feel it, he wanted them to suffer. I don’t really know why. Maybe he got off on it? Maybe he really hated them? I don’t know. Anyway, that didn’t matter at the time, right. So I get dropped off and I go and fuck up the yacht so that it’ll sink once they leave the harbour, blah blah blah, all boring, routine stuff. But I mean, I wasn’t allowed to just blow the boat up. No, it had to sink slowly, so that they would have time to try and escape. One of the kids actually made it out, you know. He actually managed to start swimming to shore, but he went back for the little sister. Big mistake, obviously, because he got caught inside of the cabin and that was the end of that. Well, I mean, it made my job easier, so I didn’t mind.”

Steve took a deep breath in through his nose. Bucky smirked, although his blood felt like it was boiling under his skin.

“I could describe the drowning process to you, if you want,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “But you already drowned, right? So you know. I don’t have to tell you what they experienced. You can tell me, though, if you want. I’ve never drowned, so I wouldn’t know. Well, I’ve been waterboarded a lot. Does that count?|

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “Probably, yes.”

“Nah, I would say no,” Bucky said. “Different end goals, right? So you’d be the expert on the whole drowning thing. So, what’s it like?”

Steve took another deep breath. “Don’t change the subject, Bucky.”

“I’m not changing the subject!” Bucky protested. “This is a conversation!”

“This isn’t a conversation,” Steve said tightly.

“It’s not?” Bucky said innocently. “Okay, well, that’s not my fault. Haven’t really had anyone interested in actually conversing with me in a while.”

“Bucky…” Steve said slowly. “I’m sorry that I asked you to tell me.”

“Why?” Bucky asked. “Too much for you?”

“No,” Steve said. “Because it’s clearly not a good memory for you to talk about.”

“Nah, it’s not too bad,” Bucky said cheerfully, even though he was so angry that his head was pounding. “Not bad at all.”

Steve didn’t say anything for another moment. Bucky tried to get a hold of his anger. He wasn’t actually angry with Steve, he was just… angry. In general.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Steve asked.

“What wasn’t?”

“Doing… that. Doing those things,” Steve said. “What they made you do. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky said. “I know that. But I still did it.”

“No,” Steve said quickly. “Bucky, no… that blood isn’t on your hands. It’s on Hydra’s, it’s on Zola’s, it’s on Auberon’s.”

“Figuratively, maybe,” Bucky said. “If we’re talking in literal terms, though…”

He took both his hands off the wheel and waved them in front of Steve’s face. Steve, to his credit, didn’t recoil.

“The blood is literally on my hands, Rogers,” Bucky said. He lifted his left hand in front of his face and squeezed it into a fist. The plates on it shifted slowly as he did so. “Doesn’t matter how many times I wash this thing, I still find blood in the grooves sometimes.”

“That isn’t your fault,” Steve repeated.

Bucky slammed both his hands into the steering wheel, bending it slightly. “Why aren’t you listening to me, Rogers? I know it isn’t my fault! That doesn’t change the fact that I still did it! That I did all of it! That it still happened!”

“I am listening,” Steve said desperately. “I’m trying to get through to you, Bucky!”

“Get through to me?” Bucky said with a laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to help you understand that you don’t need to kill yourself when you’re done all this!”

Bucky laughed again. “Two things, Rogers. Number one? I know I don’t have to kill myself. I don’t have to do anything. I _want_ to kill myself. Number two? You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“What?” Steve said, turning to stare at Bucky instead of out the window. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Rogers,” Bucky said. “You’re not the only one who knows how to use the internet, you know. I looked you up. Why didn’t you get out of the plane? And why didn’t you fight back when I was trying to kill you?”

Steve’s face had finally drained of all its colour. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Bucky.”

“Hmm, dodging the plane question again,” Bucky said coldly. “Need me to ask it again?”

“No,” Steve said tightly. He finally actually looked angry. “I heard it. There wasn’t time, Bucky! I had to put it in the water – “

“To save everyone, yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bucky said. He figured he was probably driving too fast again. “And that’s bullshit. I’m not saying you didn’t have to take the plane down, I’m saying that I’ve seen what you can do. And I know that you are more than capable of jumping out of a crashing airplane.”

“The water was cold, it was in the goddamn arctic!”

“And yet they found you pretty deep in the ice, didn’t they? Wow, it’s almost like you didn’t even _try_ to swim.”

Steve took a deep breath. Bucky was actually pretty impressed. Steve never used to have this kind of restraint.

“What are you trying to get me to say, Bucky?”

“I want you to tell me the truth, Rogers,” Bucky said, false cheerfulness lacing his voice again. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, admittedly, but we used to be best pals, didn’t we?”

“Fine,” Steve said with gritted teeth. “You want the truth, Bucky? Yeah, I didn’t get out of the plane. And no, I didn’t try and swim. That what you wanted to hear?”

Bucky’s stomach turned over. He hadn’t actually expected Steve to own up to that.

“Oh,” Bucky said. It wasn’t his most eloquent response.

“Yeah, well,” Steve said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Can we stop early today?” Steve asked. “I want some fresh air.”

Bucky wanted to make some snarky reply about not caring what Rogers wanted, but all of his anger had burned itself out for now. Apparently yelling at Steve made him feel better. He was just tired, now. Tired and grumpy and in pain.

“Fine,” Bucky said. “One of those signs back there said there’s some cabins a few miles up. We can stop there.”

Steve didn’t say anything, and they finally pulled into the campground an hour later.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky actually liked the campground a lot. There was a bored-looking guy at the front desk of the campground, and Steve rented a cabin out from him. Most of the campground was empty, probably due to the season and the chill in the air. There were a few tents here and there, but they were well spread out between the trees.

The cabins were at the back of the campground. They were small and there were only a few of them. They too were scattered out among the trees, with plenty of space between them. There was a narrow spot to park a car, and then a small fire pit with a few plastic chairs placed around it.

Bucky waited in the truck as Steve rented the cabin. Steve got back in without saying a word and handed Bucky the keys. Bucky drove slowly through the campground, taking stock of who all was staying there.

Bucky turned the car off once they got to their spot, and Steve got out. Bucky followed him into the cabin.

It was small inside, with just one bed and a small washroom. There was a couch and a small table next to a kitchenette against the wall.

Bucky tossed his duffle bag next to the couch and began his customary search of the cabin. Steve waited until he was finished, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“I need something to eat for dinner and breakfast tomorrow,” he said. “Can I take the car?”

Bucky pulled the keys out of his pocket, fully intending to toss them to Steve. His hand closed around them, though, and Bucky looked up at Steve.

“I’ll bring it back,” Steve said with a hint of exasperation. “I’ll only be gone for half an hour or something like that.”

Bucky believed him, but the thought of being stranded without his vehicle was terrifying to him.

“If you need a vehicle, you can steal one from the other people staying here,” Steve said when Bucky didn’t move.

Bucky slowly opened his hand and let Steve take the keys from him.

“Thank you,” Steve said, and his voice was a little less bitter and angry than it had been before. “I’ll be back soon.”

Bucky nodded at him, not meeting his eyes. He watched out the window as Steve backed the truck out of the parking spot and drove back down the road.

Bucky wandered around the cabin again. He’d gotten used to Steve’s constant presence, even though he’d only been with him a short while.

He eventually went out and checked the surrounding woods for potential threats. There were none, and Bucky ended up just sitting on the porch and waiting for Steve to get back. There was no internet at the campground, and so Bucky couldn’t spend time doing research. There were a few books on a dusty shelf in the cabin, but Bucky apparently couldn’t read fiction anymore. He’d tried it a few times, but his mind started to wander after only a few sentences. He couldn’t stay focused enough to finish a single page, let alone an entire book. It was frustrating.

Bucky leaned back against the cabin door and waited.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Steve returned. He didn’t say anything to Bucky as he went past him into the cabin.

The smell of the fast-food that Steve had brought with him reached Bucky, and his stomach growled. Bucky ignored it.

Steve, apparently, did not.

“Do you want some?” Steve asked from inside the cabin.

“No thank you,” Bucky said, still sitting on the porch.

Steve sighed, and walked out to stand next to Bucky on the porch. He held out another package of crackers.

“At least eat these,” Steve said tiredly. Bucky eyed the crackers, but took them from Steve’s outstretched hand.

Steve turned and went back inside. Bucky sat and watched the sun start to set, eating each cracker as slowly as he could. A curious squirrel crept closer to him, and Bucky scowled. The squirrel was not, to Bucky’s annoyance, intimidated by Bucky’s glare. He continued to move closer, and Bucky finally sighed and set a cracker down on the porch. The squirrel grabbed the food and scurried away. Bucky was now one cracker short, but he knew what it was like to be starving. He wasn’t sure of how much discomfort animals like squirrels actually felt, but Bucky didn’t really feel like making a little innocent animal go hungry.

Steve eventually emerged from the cabin again. He went down next to the fire pit and started building a campfire. Bucky sat and watched with interest. For the life of him, literally in some cases, Bucky could not remember how to build a campfire. He’d had many cold nights when he was still making his way across Europe, simply because he couldn’t remember the simple steps to do so.

Steve had no such problem, and had a nice fire going in minutes. He dragged over one of the plastic chairs and sat down near the fire, staring into the flames.

“You can come sit,” Steve said after a few minutes. Bucky finally dragged himself up off the porch and went over to sit near him.

He stared at the other plastic chair with a frown. This type of chair gave him a bad feeling, and Bucky waited for the memory to hit him. Nothing happened, though, and Bucky finally gave up and sat down. His skin crawled for a few minutes as he sat there, but he waited it out and it soon stopped. Whatever negative experience he had with cheap camping chairs, it couldn’t have been that bad.

Steve wasn’t saying anything, and Bucky certainly didn’t feel like starting a conversation. He gradually edged his chair closer and closer to the fire, though. It actually felt really good. If he couldn’t have a warm shower, maybe this was as close as he could get to being warm.

The sun had set by the time that Steve finally spoke.

“How much do you remember?” he asked, not looking away from the fire.

Bucky leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. More now, than I did at first. But there’s still… gaps.”

He waited, but Steve didn’t say anything.

“And it’s all kind of mixed up,” Bucky continued. “I’m not sure where… I’m not sure where certain things go. What order they happened in. I just get bits and pieces, usually, and I have to put them together myself.”

Steve nodded, but he was quiet again for a few minutes.

“Do you remember that time in Germany? We got snowed in, had to stay there for three full days? There was only that one bar in the town, and we drank them completely dry?”

“No,” Bucky said honestly.

“It wasn’t that long after… after I found you in the Hydra base. A couple of months, maybe.”

Bucky waited, but no memory appeared. He genuinely didn’t remember any of this.

“Sorry,” he said finally. “I don’t…”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. He crossed his arms over his chest, still staring at the fire. “You were pretty drunk, I doubt you’d remember even if…”

“Even if I wasn’t like this?”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Tell me,” Bucky said impulsively. “Please.”

Steve opened his eyes again and looked at Bucky for the first time in hours.

“It’s not a good memory,” Steve said, looking into the fire again.

“Probably not the worst one that I have.”

Steve laughed shortly. “No, probably not. Well, everyone was down at the bar. There wasn’t anything else to do and it was freezing out. It was so unbelievably cold. I went back to where we were staying pretty early, before any of you left. I couldn’t get drunk, and I was tired and I just wanted to sleep. So I left, and I was almost asleep until someone knocked on my door. And Morita and Dugan and Dernier were all standing there, telling me how they couldn’t find you anywhere. So I got dressed again, and we all went back out looking for you. It was snowing again by then, and even I was really cold.”

Steve moved his chair a little closer to the fire, although Bucky was pretty sure he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“It took me almost an hour to find you. You were way outside of town, just wandering around in the snow. You weren’t even wearing your coat. You were so drunk though, so unbelievably drunk. I was trying to talk to you, trying to convince you to come back with me, but I don’t think you even knew where you were. I finally dragged you all the way back, and we were trying to get you warmed up as quickly as we could. I sent everyone else to find you some food or water or something, so it was just me and you. And then suddenly you grabbed my arm and you just… fuck, you just started fucking begging me to let you go home. You just kept saying it over and over, about how much you didn’t want to this anymore, how much you just wanted to be back in Brooklyn, how you didn’t want to kill people anymore, stuff like that. You were getting so upset, and I was trying to calm you down, and then you finally just passed out.”

Steve leaned forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. He let hit his head drop into his hands.

“I should’ve sent you home, Buck. They told me I could do it. I had the authority, and you had the right to go if you wanted to. Because of the whole prisoner of war and torture thing. But when I asked you about it when you finally woke up, you got so mad. Kept saying how you’re never want to do that, that you’d never say anything like that. I tried, I honestly did. But fuck, you were stubborn. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. And I mean… I was selfish. I didn’t want you to go. I didn’t want to be there alone. I didn’t want to do all of that on my own, without you. I didn’t want to do anything without you.”

“That’s ironic,” Bucky said.

Steve laughed, even though Bucky couldn’t see his face. “Yeah, I guess it is.

Steve fell quiet again, and they watched the flames for another few minutes.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve finally sat back up, his face drawn and tired.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” he said. “That’s what I’m trying to say with this, I guess. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t make you go home, and I’m sorry that I made you part of the Howling Commandos. I’m sorry that you were on that train, I’m sorry that I let you fall, I’m sorry that I didn’t look for you. I’m sorry that all this happened to you, and I’m sorry that it’s still happening. I – “

“Stop,” Bucky said coldly.

Steve finally looked at him.

“That was my choice,” Bucky said. “Don’t take that away from me.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

“I wanted to be there,” Bucky said firmly. “I made my choices, Steve. I wasn’t an idiot, at least I don’t think I was.”

“You weren’t,” Steve said quietly.

“I knew what I was doing. I wanted to be with there with you,” Bucky said. “I knew the risks, and I knew what I was doing when I went on that mission with you. That wasn’t your decision to make. It was mine.”

Steve slumped down in his chair a little. “I was cocky, Bucky. I was so sure that everything would be fine. We’d all escaped death so many times, and I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking. All those missions we were doing, they were so fucking dangerous. When you… it just happened so quickly, Buck. One second you were there, and everything was fine, and then it just…”

“And then I was lying at the bottom of a ravine,” Bucky finished for him.

Steve closed his eyes. “Yeah. Bucky, I… I would have gone back for you. I would have looked for you, but…”

“But you had to crash a plane into the arctic and then stay there for seventy years.”

Steve groaned. “You aren’t going to drop that, are you.”

“No,” Bucky said. “I’m not.”

“It should have been me, Bucky,” Steve said desperately. “It should have been me who fell off that train. I was always meant to die young, you know that. I’d have been dead within a year if Erskine hadn’t chosen me. I was living on borrowed time as it was.”

“Eh,” Bucky said. “Yeah, probably. I mean, it would have been better for everyone if it had been you who fell instead of me.”

Steve frowned, clearly not understanding him.

“Because we wouldn’t be sitting here now, would we? All the people that I’ve killed, all the damage that I’ve caused. That wouldn’t have happened if you’d fallen, or if we both had.”

“Why not?” Steve asked. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying,” Bucky said slowly. “That you wouldn’t have done it, Rogers.”

“Bucky – “

“No, this isn’t up for debate,” Bucky said quickly. “I gave in, Rogers. It took a while, and I sure fought like hell as long as I could, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold on, and I gave up and now here we are.”

“Bucky, they tortured you!” Steve said frantically. “You can’t know that I wouldn’t have – “

Bucky stared at him sleepily. “We both know that you wouldn’t have,” he said tiredly. “But this isn’t even important, Rogers. That isn’t how it happened. I fell, they got me, and this all happened. It is what it is. You can’t change that.”

“I know,” Steve said, leaning forward in his chair again. “I know I can’t change what’s happened. But I can try and change the future, Buck. And you still do have a future, even if you don’t believe it.”

“Aw, Rogers,” Bucky said indulgently. He could see Steve start to scowl as Bucky’s words became cold again.

Bucky leaned forward to mimic Steve’s pose. “You don’t seem to understand this, Rogers. I know I could have a future. I just don’t want it. Besides, you talk a lot of shit for a guy who tried to kill himself twice.”

“I didn’t – “

“Ugh,” Bucky said. “How many times do we have to go over this? You did. You don’t need to justify yourself to me, Rogers. Unlike you, I’m not a hypocrite. I get it.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Steve said desperately.

“We can’t always get what we want,” Bucky said in a singsong voice. He got up from his chair. “That’s a good song, you know. You should look it up.”

He left Steve sitting miserably by the fire. Bucky wandered back into the cabin, absent-mindedly making himself drink a few glasses of water. His headache faded a little as he did so, and he ended up flopping tiredly onto the couch.

Steve came in a while later.

“You can take the bed, if you want,” Steve said quietly.

“This is fine,” Bucky said. “Not going to sleep anyway.”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but finally he just shrugged and walked away. He laid down on top of the blankets a while later. Bucky had noticed that Steve never slept with a blanket, just like him.

“Can I turn the light off?” Steve asked after another few minutes.

“Please don’t,” Bucky mumbled. He had good vision in the dark, but it was nothing compared to his vision in the light.

“Okay,” Steve said tiredly. Bucky listened to his breathing, and he was pretty sure that Steve was asleep within minutes. Bucky set the alarm on his watch and let himself slip into sleep too.

 

Light shone against his eyes when he woke again, but it was natural sunlight and not the artificial light of the lamps. Bucky sat bolt upright as he processed that it was morning and that he’d slept the entire night through. The cabin was still quiet, and Steve was standing at the counter making himself a sandwich. He hadn’t noticed that Bucky was awake, but Bucky apparently had slept right through the sounds of Steve waking up and moving around the cabin.

Bucky rolled forward onto his feet and jumped off the couch. He slammed into Steve in one fluid motion, pinning him against the cabin wall with his left arm. He closed his right hand around Steve’s throat as his left pressed against his body. Steve’s hands automatically closed around Bucky’s arm, but he didn’t hit back or try to push him off.

“Did you turn my alarm off?” Bucky shouted at him. He pressed harder, and Steve struggled for breath.

“Bucky,” Steve wheezed, and Bucky snarled and squeezed more tightly. “The battery… the battery died… look at… look at it…”

Bucky blinked at him, struggling to reconcile what was happening with the urge to destroy everything in his path and get himself to safety. He forced himself to twist his wrist to look at his watch. Sure enough, the screen was completely blank.

Bucky abruptly let go of Steve, scrambling backward until he hit the other wall in case Steve decided to retaliate. Steve just slumped back against the wall Bucky had pressed him against, though, rubbing his throat.

He stared at his watch again, then abruptly ripped it off and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, and Steve flinched.

Bucky stared at Steve with huge eyes. Steve looked up after he’d caught his breath, his face wary.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, so quietly it was barely audible. “I thought…”

Steve shook his head and rubbed at his throat again. “I wouldn’t touch your watch. I wouldn’t touch anything of yours without asking, okay?”

It crossed Bucky’s mind that he’d actually slept. He’d slept for at least seven hours, by the look of the sun shining through the windows. That wasn’t good, Bucky had specifically planned on _not_ sleeping, he couldn’t, he couldn’t handle this, he didn’t have time for this.

Steve was staring at him warily now, but the more Bucky looked at him, the faster his thoughts went. He was looking at Steve, he was looking at Steve who was the new Steve but also the old Steve but also the much newer Steve, the one that he didn’t know as well, but they were all pretty much the same anyway, once you got down to it.

Bucky moaned as the images began to flash across his eyes. He could still see the room in front of him, but it was distant now. The memories came in fragments and pieces, flashing across his mind faster than he could sort through them. Some of them had sound and some of them didn’t, not that it mattered because Bucky couldn’t figure out which voice belonged to which and who was shouting then and what language they were even speaking.

“Bucky?” Current-Steve asked. “Are you okay?”

Bucky’s legs collapsed underneath him, and he slid down the wall so that he was sitting on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, guys. They genuinely keep me going


	12. Chapter 12

He curled in on himself, closing his eyes. His thoughts were a mess, and even with his eyes closed, the images were too bright.

Bucky pressed his back against the wall and slumped down so that he was lying sideways on the floor, trying to protect as much of himself as possible. This kind of thing had happened a lot initially, and he’d gotten stabbed one night while he was lying in an alley in Moscow. He hadn’t had anything worth taking, and the muggers had left him alone to bleed out. The wound had healed, obviously, but he’d forgotten all about that occurrence until now. He cried out as the remembered pain flashed through his body again, pressing his hand into his side to reassure himself that he was not actually been stabbed again.

Bucky had no idea how long he lay there for, trying to sort through his memories. He clung onto the nice ones as long as he could, but the awful memories were louder and more vivid. The more he tried to push them away, the louder they became.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he had to squint against the warm sunlight in the cabin. Steve was sitting on the floor in front of him, his face was pale and worried.

“Hey,” Steve said quickly when he saw Bucky look at him. “You okay?”

Bucky stared at him groggily, and then extended his right arm.

“What did I do to this arm?” Bucky asked slowly. “Did I break it?”

“Uh,” Steve said with a frown. “Yeah, when you were a kid.”

Bucky pulled his arm back in and wrapped it around his stomach again. “How?”

“You fell off a wall,” Steve said. “Broke your ankle at the same time, too.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “Okay. Thanks.”

He closed his eyes again and drifted off, going back to sorting through the confusion.

He blinked again when his mind was finally clearer. His thoughts still felt raw, like they were running through his entire body and not just his head. He felt volatile, even moreso than he normally did. Everything was stronger and brighter again.

He hated it.

He blinked slowly. Steve was still sitting in front of him on the floor, his face worried. Bucky hated the ridiculous bubble of happiness that swamped his chest when he saw him, when he realized that Steve had been sitting in the same goddamn spot for hours, waiting for Bucky to come back to himself again.

Bucky sat up slowly, stretching lazily. Steve watched him warily.

“Sorry,” Bucky said slowly. “About earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said carefully. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Bucky stretched his legs out in front of him, opening and closing his hands. His muscles felt stiff and painful after being curled up all day.

“Bucky,” Steve said. “It’s two in the afternoon. You’ve been lying there for hours.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Uh, sorry. Again. And thanks for staying.”

Steve was frowning. “What’s going on, Buck? I mean, you slept so well last night, you slept for hours, and then…”

“And then,” Bucky repeated with a shrug. “What do you want me to tell you, Rogers?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on with you,” Steve said. “So that I can help you, if I can.”

Bucky’s automatic response was to say “I don’t need your help,” but he bit his tongue. Steve had sat by his side all afternoon. He deserved better.

Bucky sighed. “It’s… when I sleep, for at least a few hours, my head starts to… heal, I guess.”

The sudden hopeful look on Steve’s face made him feel sick.

“Not like that,” Bucky said harshly. “You can’t just knock me out and except your good old pal Bucky to be here when I wake up again.”

“No, of course not,” Steve said, clearly struggling to make his face impassive again.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, but Steve stared back evenly.

“One of the scientists who used to work on me, way back in the day? I found him a while ago, back in Russia. Made him try and explain what’s going on. He said that because I heal so quickly, my brain tries to heal over the damage done to it. So when I sleep, it repairs itself more quickly, which means… which means when I wake up, I have a bunch of stuff back. But I don’t know where it’s from or what it means, and it… it takes a while to sort through.”

“Oh,” Steve said quietly.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Steve got to his feet.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?” Steve asked as he went to the counter.

“No.”

Steve sighed again, and grabbed a bottle of water and the box of granola bars.

“I don’t know how much you actually need to eat,” Steve said as he came to sit in front of Bucky again. “But I have to eat a lot each day. It’s kind of annoying, actually. If I don’t, I start getting really hungry and then I start getting weaker. Buck, you aren’t eating enough for a regular person, let alone someone like you.”

Bucky shrugged, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. “Hasn’t killed me yet.”

Steve looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “No, but you look awful and it can’t feel that good, either. Just drink the water, Bucky.”

Bucky grudgingly took the water bottle from him and sipped at it. Steve opened the packaging on one of the granola bars and passed it to him.

“No thanks,” Bucky said, staring at it with distaste.

“Please,” Steve said desperately. “It’s hurting me to watch you like this. I’m not going to make you eat it if you really don’t want to, but at least give it a shot.”

Bucky scowled at him, but reached out and took the granola bar. He broke off a tiny bit and put it in his mouth, taking a swig from the water bottle at the same time. He ate the entire granola bar that way, even though it took much longer than it should have.

Steve waited until he was finished the granola bar and the water before he stood up again. He looked pleased with himself.

Bucky tried to get up too, but his legs cramped and gave out from under him. He slid back to the floor, frowning.

“You okay?” Steve asked from across the cabin, sounding alarmed.

“If you ask that question one more time, I swear to god,” Bucky muttered. He reached over and used the edge of the rickety table to pull himself into one of the chairs.

“Stand up without falling over next time. Then I won’t have to ask it.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky muttered, resting his arms on the table and letting his head slump down.

Steve seemed cheerful, bustling around the cabin without much of an actual purpose. Bucky had a feeling that it had to do with him mentioning his brain healing itself.

He could already feel the meager amount of food he’d consumed working, though. It wasn’t enough to make him sick, but he already felt stronger.

“Now what,” Bucky said, turning his head on his arms so that he could look at Steve. “No television here. Or wifi.”

“There’s a deck of cards,” Steve said hesitantly.

Bucky sighed. He didn’t feel well enough to walk anywhere, let alone get into the car and drive for hours. “Fine. Bring it over.”

Steve smiled again, that ridiculous sunshiney-smile of his. He sat down across from Bucky and automatically started shuffling and dealing the cards. He paused suddenly, looking up at Bucky with a frown.

“Do you – “

“I remember how to play cards, Rogers,” Bucky said with a growl.

“All right, all right,” Steve said. He continued dealing the cards.

They played for a few hours. It was almost automatic for Bucky, and he found his head starting to get clearer as the hours wore on. Steve went into town again to get dinner, and Bucky went to take a shower.

He stood in the small washroom and stared at the shower faucet. This was such a ridiculous, simple thing. His shoulders and back were hurting, and he just wanted a goddamn hot shower.

He reached for the shower faucet, and tried to turn it to the right. Just like before, and just like every other time he’d tried, his skin started to crawl. It felt like someone else had grabbed hold of the faucet and was pushing back against him. The longer he fought it, the worse it got.

Bucky was still standing there by the time Steve walked back in.

“I went to this new place for dinner,” Steve said as he started unpacking his boxes of food. “It was one of those organic vegan places, or whatever they’re called. But anyway, they had a bunch of simple sandwiches and salads and stuff, so I got some for you. Thought you might like it, you can try some of it if you want.”

“Steve?” Bucky called around the open washroom door.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me with something?”

“Of course,” Steve said. He pushed the washroom door open more widely.

Bucky leaned against the counter, his arms crossed across his chest. “Can you turn the shower on for me? With the hot water?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said, looking a little confused. “Sure.”

He went over and turned the shower on. He stepped back out of the washroom, watching Bucky warily.

“Thanks,” Bucky said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. He shut the door in Steve’s face again, and then focused on stripping off his clothes as quickly as he could. He’d only stolen these clothes a few days ago, but they were already getting kind of gross. He’d have to get new ones soon.

He tentatively stuck his hand under the hot water. He hadn’t had a warm shower in… well, he actually had no idea how long it had been.

He carefully stepped under the spray, leaning his forehead against the shower wall as the water ran down his back. He felt the muscles in his neck and back start to loosen already.

Bucky stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out. He felt unusually calm as he got dressed again, which probably had something to do with the lack of pain radiating from his shoulders.

Steve managed to convince him to eat an entire sandwich and drink a whole bottle of water. He felt a little stronger afterward, and much less tired. He went and laid down on the bed anyway, simply because the sandwich had made his stomach hurt and he didn’t want to move.

He started to fall asleep again. The small cabin was warm and the bed was surprisingly comfortable. The lighting from the lamps was enough to see by, but not bright enough to hurt his head. Steve sat at the table still, a book open in front of him.

“Can I borrow your watch?” Bucky asked, not bothering to open his eyes. “I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Steve said. Bucky heard him unstrap it from his wrist and toss it to him. He grabbed it out of the air and then opened his eyes, setting the alarm for three hours from now.

“Are you going to try and sleep?” Steve asked. “I can turn the lights off.”

“No,” Bucky said. “This is fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He let his arms drop back to his side again, and fell asleep to the sound of Steve turned the pages in his book.

 

When the alarm on Steve’s watch went off three hours later, Bucky turned it off and slowly sat up. The lamps were still on, but Steve was now stretched out on the old couch. His eyes opened a little when Bucky moved, but closed again almost immediately. He looked tired, even in sleep, and he was much too large for that tiny couch.

Bucky sighed and let himself fall back down on the bed. He rolled over to one side of the bed so that he was lying in his back.

“Rogers,” he said.

“Mmph?” Steve said, half-opening his eyes again.

“Get on the fucking bed, Rogers.”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve mumbled. Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t even fully awake. “’M fine here.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He was too tired for this shit. “That couch wouldn’t fit a little kid. Get the fuck over here.”

“You sure?” Steve asked. He sounded a little alarmed. “It won’t bother you?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it did,” Bucky said. He opened his eyes again and set the alarm on the watch for two more hours.

It took Steve a few more minutes before he walked over to the bed. Bucky was half-asleep again by that point.

Steve cautiously laid down beside him, making sure to leave as much room between them as possible. Bucky was too tired to roll his eyes, so he just sighed instead.

“You’re sure this is fine,” Steve said under his breath.

“Rogers.”

“Okay, sorry.”

He appreciated that Steve was respectful of his personal space, he really did. It just didn’t bother him to have people close by. It’s what he was used to. He didn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been surrounded by at least a few people at all times, at least not before he’d been on his own. That had been one of the hardest things to get used to, at the beginning. Being on his own, especially in some of the more remote areas of Russia and Europe, had been foreign and terrifying. He’d gotten over it, but he was still more comfortable like this. It was also just Steve, too. Steve’s presence didn’t bother him.

Apparently Steve’s subconscious was less polite than his conscious self. When Bucky woke up again two hours later, Steve’s forehead was pressed against Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky sighed and nudged him gently. “Rogers.”

“Mmm.”

“Stop snuggling.”

“Mmm.”

Bucky sighed and gave up.

He lay there for a few more hours, trying to get his thoughts sorted out before he got up. He’d fallen asleep early enough that it was still dark outside when he finally got up.

He knew the front desk of the campground had a few racks of clothing for sale, so Bucky wandered down through the campground. Steve was still asleep when he left the cabin, but Bucky left the car keys and the car behind so that Steve would know that he wasn’t gone.

The campground was quiet and peaceful. It only took him ten minutes to get to the main building of the campground.

The only person in the store when he entered was a teenage girl, who was asleep with her face on the front desk. Bucky was silently flipping through the racks of t-shirts when the flickering of a television caught his eye.

He walked over to stand near the still-sleeping girl, his eyes fixed on the television. It was set to some random news channel, with a tired-looking newscaster broadcasting the latest news. The tv was on mute, but the scrolling banner across the bottom of the screen told Bucky everything he needed to know.

“Michelle Lynsey Purchases Seventeen Houses on Residential Street for Personal Use, Neighbourhood is Angered.”

Bucky slammed the store door behind him, waking the poor girl up. Bucky didn’t stop, storming back to the cabin.

He’d wasted a day. He’d wasted an entire _day_ lying around, playing cards with Steve. He’d even slept, for god’s sake. He had things to do, he couldn’t afford to be lazing around eating sandwiches and watching sunsets.

He needed to regroup. He needed to get back on track. Steve wouldn’t like it, of course. Bucky knew that Steve was very happy with the way things currently were. There was no way that Steve would passively accept it if Bucky went back to driving all day and night and not stopping for any reason. Steve would keep trying to make him eat and rest. Steve would keep trying to get his old friend back, instead of the monster Bucky was now.

This wasn’t going to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [a very pre prequel, of sorts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2586431)   
> [I am here](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)


	13. Chapter 13

He became even angrier as he walked back to the cabin. He didn’t want to deal with this. He didn’t want to deal with any of this.

He unfortunately took his anger out on the cabin door. Steve was making himself breakfast at the table, and he jumped when Bucky slammed the door behind him.

“Woah,” Steve said. “Careful. Damage deposit, remember?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the damage deposit,” Bucky snarled. “I will burn this place to the ground if I want to.”

Steve stared at him. “Well. Okay. Uh, do you want a sandwich?”

“No,” Bucky said. He stormed over to his duffel bag and started tossing his things back inside it. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Okay,” Steve said agreeably. He finished making his sandwich and stuffed half of it into his mouth at once, keeping the other half in his hand as he packed up the ingredients.

Bucky stormed back out to the truck and threw his bag into the backseat, starting the engine immediately. Steve wandered out with his shield and his sandwich, settling down comfortably in the passenger’s seat. He didn’t seem bothered by the rage that Bucky was pretty sure was radiating off of him.

After Steve went into the front desk and checked them out of the cabin, Bucky pulled the truck back onto the highway with a squeal of the tires.

“We might get pulled over if you keep driving this quickly,” Steve observed. He ate the last bite of his sandwich.

“They can try to pull me over,” Bucky said. “They can fucking try.”

“Okay,” Steve said, clearly not rising to the bait.

Bucky took a deep breath and tried to suppress some of the rage boiling in his chest. Steve was clearly way too patient with Bucky’s anger and mood swings. He’d never leave just because Bucky shouted at him all the time or drove too quickly down the highway.

“I want to leave your shield behind,” Bucky said after a few minutes. _That_ got Steve’s attention.

“What?” he asked, sitting up in his seat.

“Your shield. It’s too conspicuous. Anyone who sees you with it will know who you are. Security cameras will pick it up.”

Steve frowned. “Well, yeah, but… I usually have a cover for it. We could stop at the next department store and I could pick something up.”

“It’ll still clearly be a shield,” Bucky said firmly. “I know you’re weren’t trained for subtlety, but I was. I’ll pull over when the traffic slows down, you can just leave it in the forest.”

Steve stared at him. “Uh, no?”

“What do you mean, ‘no’.”

“Exactly what it means! I’m not going to leave my shield behind, Bucky.”

“Why not? It’s not even a weapon. You can use one of my guns instead.”

“It’s a weapon if you use it properly.”

“It’s not as much of a weapon as an assault rifle is.”

“Oh, yeah, an assault rifle is so much more subtle than my shield.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “At least an assault rifle doesn’t have a goddamn target painted onto it.”

“I’m not leaving it behind,” Steve said firmly. “It’s important to me.”

“It’s a goddamn piece of metal.”

“It’s the only thing I brought with me when I went into the ice, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t care. If you want to stay with your shield so badly, then you can get out of the truck with it and I’ll leave both of you behind.”

Steve stared at him. “What is with you today? I’ve had my shield with me since we started, it hasn’t bothered you before now.”

“It did bother me. I just didn’t say anything about it.”

“Why now, then?”

“Because my next target lives in a more populated area. If I go in guns blazing and you’ve got your shield, every security camera is going to realize it’s you. You’ll be on the evening news within an hour, and I don’t doubt that your Avenger friends will show up too.”

“Then I’ll leave it in the car,” Steve said stubbornly.

Bucky sighed and let his head fall back against the seat. “For fuck’s sake, Steve. You’ve had your fun. I don’t want you here.”

Steve was quiet for a moment.

“Well, I’m staying whether you want me or not.”

Bucky scowled. “It’s not up to you. This is my car. My mission.”

“You stole the car. It’s not yours.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky muttered. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most obstinate person alive?”

“Yes. Several times.”

“Fuck, I don’t understand how I ever put up with you.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

Well, fuck. Now Bucky felt bad. This was not going at all the way he intended. Then again, most things didn’t go the way Bucky intended.

Bucky sighed. “Rogers, just…”

“I’m not leaving, Bucky. I’m staying with you.”

“Why?” Bucky suddenly shouted, all of his anger coming back in full force. “Why are you doing this to me, Rogers? You’re making everything so much harder than it has to be. You’ve fucked up my life enough, all right? Just let me do this on my own.”

Steve was painfully quiet for a long moment. He stared out the side window, determinedly not looking at Bucky.

“I know,” Steve said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

He did care, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” Steve said quietly, still not looking at him. “I just wanted to help you, Buck.”

He sounded so fucking sad and it was causing physical pain in Bucky’s chest.

“I know,” Bucky said finally. “And you did. But now I need to do this on my own, Rogers. Go back to your new friends. Save the world a few more times. Marry some pretty girl, and forget about me. Pretend I died in the war like I was supposed to.”

Steve’s next words were so quiet that even Bucky could barely hear them. “Can’t do that, Buck. Not anymore.”

Bucky pretended he hadn’t heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil chapter for you guys before I run off to write some more AUs because I am WEAK


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warning for self-harm in this chapter. Please be careful.

Of course, the car broke down three minutes later.

 

They were driving in silence. Steve was staring resolutely out the side window, his body angled away from Bucky. The irritating creaking noise coming from the engine was staring to bother Bucky, and he accelerated in the hopes that it would stop.

Instead, a loud banging noise sounded from the engine and the truck stopped working.

Steve sat back up as Bucky got the truck off the road and onto the shoulder. Bucky tried the engine again, but it sputtered and then died completely.

They sat there for a moment in silence. Steve got out of the truck and shut the door behind him, opening the hood.

Bucky groaned and let his head fall back against the seat. When Steve didn’t reappear after a few minutes, Bucky finally got out and wandered around to the front of the truck.

Steve was bracing his hands on the edge of the engine, staring at it with a frown.

“Can you fix it?” Bucky asked.

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Not if I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Can you give it a shot?”

Bucky stared at him. “I have no idea how to fix a car.”

Steve looked up and frowned. “You used to – “

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, apparently fixing a modern car wasn’t as important as knowing how to place a car bomb.”

Steve looked back down at the truck and then shut the hood. “We can call a tow truck. The nearest town’s only a few miles down the road.”

Bucky scowled. “No. Besides, now’s as good of a time as any.”

He stepped back and grabbed his bag out of the truck again. He pulled Steve’s shield out and tossed it carelessly in the grass on the side of the road.

“Help me with this,” he said as he started to tip the truck onto its side.

“Bucky, let’s just walk to the next town,” Steve said, sounding exasperated. “If you still want me to go, we can split up then. Let’s get some sleep tonight, at least.”

“I’m going to take a shortcut,” Bucky told him as the truck rolled onto its side. Bucky kicked it, and it rolled down the side of the road to settle among the bushes.

Steve groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “Where?”

Bucky pointed at the mountain to their right. “Through there.”

“Bucky,” Steve said plaintively. “It’ll be faster to just walk to town, get another car, and then drive around the goddamn mountain.”

“You can walk to the town,” Bucky told him as he shouldered his bag. “Call your friends when you get there, have them come pick you up. I’m taking my shortcut.”

Bucky started walking down the slope leading away from the road.

 Steve groaned again.  “Bucky!”

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder. “You said you’d go, Rogers. I’ll see you around.”

He’d just made it to the edge of the treeline when he heard Steve start walking after him. Bucky ignored him for another few minutes, but Steve made absolutely no effort to hide his footsteps.

Bucky finally spun around and waited. Steve appeared a moment later, coming to a halt as he saw Bucky glaring at him.

“What are you doing,” Bucky said.

Steve stared at him resolutely. “I’ll go if you really want me to, Buck. But you can’t just go walking through the mountains in the middle of the night by yourself.”

Bucky laughed. “Why not? What could possibly pose a threat to me here? A mountain lion? A rabid squirrel? A rogue leaf?”

Steve sighed. “It’s cold, and that jacket you’re wearing isn’t exactly made for bad weather.”

“I’m used to the cold, Rogers.”

“And you’re tired, and hungry, and weak,” Steve continued firmly. “You’re not at your best.”

“Well, fuck you too,” Bucky said indignantly.

Steve groaned. “Bucky, come on. You don’t know what’s out there. Hydra could be following us at this very moment, who knows?”

Bucky shrugged. “I can handle whoever comes at me.”

“Ugh,” Steve said. “I _know_ that, Bucky. I’m not trying to imply that you can’t take care of yourself, I’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier with help.”

“Rogers,” Bucky said as he turned and started walking again. “Nothing about my life is easy. I’m used to things not being easy.”

Steve followed him. “Why are you so against me helping you?”

Bucky sighed as he dodged a tree branch. “This isn’t your fight, Rogers.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Steve said. “Of course it’s my fight!”

“It is NOT,” Bucky shouted, without turning around. He pushed another tree branch out of his way with a little too much force. “I get that you’re mad, Rogers. I get that you’re pissed off at Hydra, and that you’re mad at what they did to your friend. And to you, and to the world. I get that. You can go fight them all you want, I don’t care. But this? This mission? This is mine, and I’m going to finish it by myself.”

Bucky could hear Steve grinding his teeth in frustration. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I want to.”

Steve sighed. “Fine. You know what, Bucky? Fine. I’ll go. We get to the next town, after your little shortcut, and I’ll leave if that’s what you want. But I’ll always be here for you, Buck. If you ever need me, or you want me to come back, or if you need anything at all, you can call me and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I won’t need you.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said stubbornly. “The offer still stands.”

“Fine,” Bucky snapped back.

They walked in silence for a while. The forest was dark and quiet this late at night. The only sounds were the wind gently rustling the trees and the soft movements of animals through the underbrush.

“Please take my coat,” Steve said. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can see you shivering. You’re cold.”

Bucky frowned as he walked. He was shivering, actually. He didn’t even really notice the cold at this point. It was usually his natural state. “I’m not.”

“Bucky,” Steve said, the exasperation still in his voice. “You’re too thin, that’s why you’re so cold. I can’t fix that for you, but I can at least let you take my coat.”

Bucky abruptly spun around, dropping his bag on the ground. He strode over to Steve, who had stopped walking a few feet behind him.

“Stop,” Bucky snarled, his muscles starting to tense. The plates shifted in his left arm. “Fucking. Following. Me.”

Steve didn’t move back. “I told you, after the next town – “

Bucky shoved him. Steve didn’t even move. “No, not after the next town. You decided that, not me. I want you to leave now.”

“Bucky – “

Bucky shoved him again, this time with more force. Steve rocked back a step, but his face was calm. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Stop apologizing!” Bucky yelled. “Stop fucking apologizing!”

“I’m – “

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Bucky snarled. His muscles were nearly vibrating with tension, and his head was starting to pound. “Leave me the fuck alone, Steve. You’re making me tired, and do you know how tired I already am? No, you know what, I’ll answer that for you. You have no fucking idea, Steve. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to be tired like this.”

“Bucky, I do – “ Steve protested. Bucky shoved him again, and this time Steve stumbled back against a tree.

“No you don’t!” Bucky yelled, his face inches from Steve’s. “Why the hell would you be tired? You slept for seventy years, Steve! Seventy goddamn years! And then you got to wake up and be a hero again! How could you possibly have any idea?”

“I know,” Steve said, a little desperately. “I don’t want to compare myself to you – “

“Then don’t! I’m tired, Steve! I’m so unbelievably fucking tired. I’ve been awake for so long, Steve, I’ve been in hell for so fucking long. Just let me do this, let me finish this and then I can finally, _finally_ sleep.”

Steve reached out for him, but Bucky knocked his hands away. “Bucky, I – “

“It wasn’t like it was for you,” Bucky said desperately. He had to make him understand. “Cryo’s not… it’s not like sleeping, Steve, Don’t you get that?”

Steve was pale, and his hands hovered at his sides.

“It’s fast,” Bucky said. “They turn it on, and its hurts like hell for a few seconds and then you’re gone. But it doesn’t feel like times passes, it feels like only a few seconds and then the door is opening again and the air is warming up and you’re being pulled out and hosed down and screamed at and hit until you get up. There’s no breaks, Steve! There’s no rest! By the time they send you out again, it feels like it’s only been a few hours since your last mission but now everyone is wearing different clothes and sometimes speaking different languages and the weapons are newer but it doesn’t really matter, you’re still killing people and that never really changes, does it. I’m so tired, Steve. Just let me go. I’m so fucking tired.”

Steve just looked sad. Not angry, like Bucky wanted him to be.

“Buck…” Steve said slowly.

Bucky punched him. It was just his shoulder, and Bucky knew he hadn’t hit hard enough to leave more than a bruise. “Why don’t you fight back, Steve? Why’d you let me almost kill you on that helicarrier?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Steve said. “Nothing you do or say is gonna change that.”

“Fucking stop,” Bucky shouted. “Stop _doing_ this! Don’t just stand there and take it!”

He swung again, but it was slow and clumsy and Steve easily dodged it.

“You’ve been hurt enough,” Steve said, still in that infuriatingly calm voice. “I don’t want you to hurt me, Buck, but I’m not going to hit you back.”

“I don’t care!”

“I do,” Steve said.

Bucky aimed for his face this time. Steve twisted away again, and Bucky’s left fist crushed the tree’s bark instead. Steve started backing away, with Bucky stalking closer with each step. Bucky was losing it again, he knew. Everything was fizzing under his skin, and all of his thoughts were crashing together and howling at the same time.

“There’s nothing here for you!” Bucky shouted. “I’m going to fucking kill you, why don’t you fucking care about that? I don’t want your blood on my hands anymore, Steve! I don’t want your death on my hands! Just fucking go!”

“You aren’t,” Steve said calmly. “You won’t.”

Bucky snapped and leapt forward. His next punch caught Steve in the ribs, knocking him to the ground. His blood was boiling, all of his muscles screaming to fight.

“Bucky,” Steve said. His face was sad, but not scared. He should have been scared, he should have been fucking scared.

Bucky shoved himself away from Steve, stumbling away back through the forest. He walked blindly, the urge to fight and kill clogging up his throat and his muscles.

One tree was too large for Bucky to knock out of the way, so he settled for hitting it instead. The force of his left fist slamming against it jarred his entire body, wrenching his ribs and spine painfully. Bucky ignored it, ripping at the tree with both his hands.

“Bucky,” Steve said from behind him. Bucky’s hands were filled with pieces of tree bark and broken wood. Bucky turned and hurled them at him, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction as Steve ducked out of the way.

“Go _away,_ ” Bucky snarled. He turned and started walking again.

He found a small boulder after a minute. He turned on that instead, kicking and hitting. The stone started to break and chip under his hands, turning into shards and dust.

“Bucky, stop,” Steve said desperately.

“Shut UP,” Bucky shouted at him. A particularly sharp piece broke off of the rock, and Bucky grabbed it before it could hit the ground. He took it with his left hand and slammed it against his right arm, the flash of pain searing through his body. He kept at it, slamming the stone against his right hand again and again until the stone was little more than gravel mixed with blood.

“Bucky!” Steve said desperately. He grabbed Bucky’s left arm, wrenching the rock out of his hand. Bucky didn’t try and stop him.

Steve forced Bucky to turn around, pushing his back up against the boulder. “You’re hurting yourself, Bucky, stop. Please.”

Bucky stared at him, his chest heaving. “I can’t, I can’t stop, I can’t rid of it,” Bucky said desperately. The rage was slipping away, had lightened with every crack of his own bones. “It’s you or me, Stevie, I can’t stop – “

Steve looked like he was going to cry. Or was already crying. Bucky wasn’t sure.

“Just try and breathe,” Steve said desperately. “I know, Buck, I know, but it’ll pass, it always does.”

“It WON’T,” Bucky shouted. He struggled a little, but Steve was using his full weight to pin Bucky back against the rock.

“It will,” Steve said. He pressed his forehead against Bucky’s, still keeping him pinned down.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled. He tried twisting again, trying to get at his own torn-up hand, but Steve just held him more tightly.

“So am I,” Steve said.

“I said no apologizing,” Bucky said, but the rage was leaving his voice.

Steve looked up, his face a little more hopeful. They stood there for a long moment, pressed together and inches apart.

“You okay?” Steve said softly.

Bucky stared at him, and then surged forward so he could press his mouth to Steve’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger again, I know I'm sorry I'm sorry, I wrote this in one go and I'm so tired now I'M SO TIRED but I hadn't posted a chapter in like a week and so I did this really quickly and I will post another as soon as I can, it's been a very busy week I am so sorry


	15. Chapter 15

Steve kissed him back, his hands relaxing on Bucky’s arms for a split second before he stumbled backward.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, confusion written across his face.

Bucky took advantage of his freedom to stumble forward, pushing Steve backward into a tree behind him. He kept his hands on Steve’s shoulders as he kissed him again, Steve’s body hot against his.

Steve’s hands dug into Bucky’s back, but he gently pushed Bucky back after a moment.

“Bucky…” he said again. His face was still worried, but he had his hands on Bucky’s hips. “What are you doing?”

Bucky shrugged, trying to slow his breathing. “You complaining?”

“No,” Steve said. “But, um, I want to make sure that…”

“That what?” Bucky asked, sliding closer again and pressing his body against Steve’s again.

“That, uh, you actually want this,” Steve said. His next words were punctuated by a gasp as Bucky started kissing down the side of Steve’s jaw. “This is kind of coming out of nowhere.”

“Nah,” Bucky said, smiling a little as he felt Steve’s hands dig harder into his skin. “My head’s pretty fucked up, Steve, but I can still remember some things.”

He grabbed Steve’s hair with his right hand, and Steve actually groaned. “Bucky, a minute ago you were crushing your own hand with a rock.”

“And you wanted me to stop doing that,” Bucky asked into his ear, before he trailed his lips down the side of Steve’s neck. “So I did.”

Steve took a deep breath in as Bucky’s left hand moved down Steve’s ribs. “You’re sure this is what you want, Buck?”

Bucky leaned back and waited until Steve looked at him directly in the eyes. “Yes.”

Bucky wanted to laugh as he watched the last of Steve’s resolve vanish. His laughter was cut off when Steve ran his hands up under Bucky’s jacket and shirt, his fingers brushing over the scars that laced their way over his skin.

It was rough and unrestrained. Bucky alternated between pulling Steve’s body as close to his as they could possibly get, and shoving him backwards against the trees that they slammed into. His teeth left marks over Steve’s chest and shoulders, but they faded almost immediately.

They couldn’t get each other’s clothes off fast enough. Bucky was just proud that he didn’t literally rip Steve’s off, considering they didn’t exactly have anything else to change into.

Bucky froze when Steve finally got his jacket and shirt off. Steve was running his hands up Bucky’s back.

To Bucky’s surprise, although he really should have expected it, Steve didn’t hesitate at all when his hands grazed the scars where Bucky’s skin met the metal of his arm. Steve also didn’t flinch at all when Bucky ran his left hand through his hair and used it to hold Steve’s jaw as he kissed him.

Bucky’s entire body felt more alive than it had since… well, since he could remember. The pain in his back and head and shoulders was still there, of course, but it was quieter. The sensation of his body grinding against Steve’s was far stronger than the dull constant ache of his spine.

Steve’s movements were desperate and quick. He explored every inch of Bucky’s body, although he was careful never to touch him hard enough to bruise (although Bucky wouldn’t have minded.)

It didn’t take long for both of them to finish. Bucky came first, pressing his head against Steve’s shoulder as he did so. Steve followed only a few moments after.

They stood there for a long while afterward, still holding onto each other desperately. They finally got their breath back, and the sweat on Bucky’s back started to cool against his skin.

“We should get moving,” Bucky said after another few minutes.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Neither of them moved.

Bucky finally pulled away and started pulling his clothes back on. He was finally starting to feel the pain in his hand and wrist from where he’d hit it.

“Can I take a look at it?” Steve asked quietly. Bucky frowned, but let Steve gently take his hand.

“This needs to be cleaned out,” Steve said. “And I think you broke a few bones.”

“They’ll heal,” Bucky said. He pulled his hand out of Steve’s grip and went to pick up Steve’s shield. He tossed it to him without looking.

“We can get a first aid kit when we get to town,” Steve said. “They even sell them at gas stations now.”

Bucky sighed. “Okay, fine. Come on.”

He was tired now though, and their progress was slow. Bucky was kind of regretting his insistence on taking a hike through the mountains instead of just getting another car, but there was no way in hell he was going to mention that to Steve.

“Are you regretting taking this shortcut?” Steve asked a while later anyway.

“Shut up.”

Exhaustion was seeping through his body again. Even the rage that normally carried him forward was absent, leaving him boneless and sleepy. His eyes kept closing of their own accord as he walked.

Bucky tripped on a root and fell forward, barely catching himself with his hands before he hit the ground. The fall just ground more dirt into the cuts on his hand and arm.

“You okay?” Steve asked hesitantly. Bucky had a feeling he was resisting the urge to dash over and help him up.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. Slowly getting to his feet again, he kept walking.

He fell two more times before they finally made it out of the forest and into another town. By the time they stumbled past the last trees, the world was blurring in front of Bucky’s eyes. His movements were slow and sluggish, and he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to fend off even the weakest attacker if they came for him right now.

“Bucky?” Steve asked from somewhere behind him. When Bucky didn’t reply, Steve kept talking. “Bucky, I know you want to keep going but maybe you should just get a hotel for the night. Or just for a few hours.”

Bucky wanted to argue, but he was so fucking tired and Steve was so damn logical. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve seemed a little taken aback by Bucky’s compliance, but he led the way through the dark and quiet town to another run-down hotel. Bucky leaned against the side of the building while Steve went in to get a room, his head down and his shoulders loose. The need to search the parking lot around him for potential threats still burned in the back of his mind, but the heavy exhaustion was stronger.

“Room 329,” Steve said. Bucky blinked, unsure of how long Steve had been standing in front of him for. Steve held out the keys.

Bucky took them from Steve’s outstretched hand, his eyes threatening to close again. Bucky stumbled his way towards the side door of the hotel, glancing back when Steve didn’t follow him.

“Are you coming?” Bucky asked him tiredly. He only then noticed that Steve was carrying both Bucky’s duffel bag and his own shield.

“Do you want me to?” Steve asked hesitantly.

Bucky had genuinely forgotten that he’d tried to make Steve leave him alone earlier. God, he was so tired.

“Yeah,” he said finally. Steve beamed at him, and Bucky rolled his eyes and walked into the hotel.

It took him a few minutes to get the door to their hotel room open, simply because Bucky’s coordination was shot to hell. When he finally stumbled in, all he wanted to do was collapse face down on the bed and sleep for days.

His first instinct was to check the room for bugs or security breaches, though, and it started to bother him even as he took his first step towards the bed.

Bucky groaned out loud and started his circle around the room. He finished it once, but it just didn’t feel right and so he did it again. When he finished the second time, he couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he’d missed something. By the time he was on his fifth circuit around the hotel room, Steve was sitting on the bed and looking at him with concern.

“I think you probably covered everything,” Steve said carefully. Bucky ignored him and checked the window latches again.

 The seventh time that Bucky started taking the remote control apart to check for bugs, Steve got up and gently took it out of his hands.

“But – “ Bucky protested.

“I watched you check it six times before this,” Steve said calmly. “This room is fine. Go get some sleep, Buck. I’ll stay awake, keep an eye on everything.”

Bucky wanted to argue, but he was so incredibly tired that he found himself walking over to the bed. He flopped down onto it and barely had time to roll over on his back before he fell asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Steve was still awake when Bucky woke up. He was sitting on the bed next to where Bucky was sprawled out, his back against the headboard.

“Hey,” Steve said tiredly when he saw Bucky’s eyes open. Bucky watched him for a moment before closing his eyes again. He didn’t fall back asleep, but he needed time to sort through the chaos in his head.

 

“You were the first thing I lost, you know,” Bucky said an hour later. He opened his eyes again, but only halfway.

“What?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked at him from underneath his eyelids. “You. My memories of you. It was the first to go.”

“Oh,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed and rolled onto his back. He stared at the slightly grimy ceiling above him.

“Turns out I was going about it all wrong,” Bucky said slowly. “But I figured that out too late.”

Steve was quiet.

“When I realized what they were doing, when I figured out what they were trying to do…” Bucky continued. “I thought about you more. Ran over all of my memories of us in my head as much as I could, tried to hold onto it. Do you know how those machines work though?”

“No.”

“They’ve got them calibrated and designed to target memory centers. But what they look for, what they focus on, is the parts of your brain with the most activity. So I was spending all that effort trying to hold on to certain memories, and all it did was point them in the exact right direction.”

Bucky looked up. Steve now looked a little sick.

“It didn’t take very long,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so, at least. I mean, once everything about you was gone… it was kind of the first domino, I guess. Everything else came down quickly after that.”

“Oh,” Steve said again. Bucky decided to take pity on him and stopped talking.

He sat up slowly, letting his head fall forward as he stretched his back a little.

“Bucky?” Steve said. “Does that… does that hurt you?”

Bucky twisted a little to look at him. “Does what?”

Steve reached forward and ran his hand over Bucky’s left shoulder, up to where the metal fused with his skin.

“Oh,” Bucky said. He thought about it for a minute. “Uh… yeah, kind of. I think.”

“You think?” Steve said with a slight frown.

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t really notice it. It aches, I guess. Not my arm itself. Just in my shoulders, and my back.”

Steve was frowning, and Bucky hurriedly tried to explain. “Just because it’s too heavy, you know? It’s grafted to my spine and ribs and everything, but my muscles still have to do most of the work.”

He leaned forward and stretched his left arm out. He grabbed Steve’s hand with his right one and placed it on the bottom of his left forearm. Steve stared at him, but Bucky watched him gently close his hand around Bucky’s left forearm.

Bucky let his shoulders roll forward slightly, consciously trying to relax the muscles in his back and shoulders. Steve’s eyes widened as he felt the full weight of Bucky’s left arm.

“Jesus,” Steve said. “Bucky, this has to be excruciating.”

Bucky pulled his arm back. “It’s not that bad.”

“I remember what it’s like to have chronic pain, Buck. It’s awful.”

Bucky shrugged, already feeling his muscles started to tense again as the weight of his arm shifted back onto his spine. “There’s worse things.”

“Yeah, but chronic pain is still horrible,” Steve said. He leaned forward again, gently pulling the collar of Bucky’s shirt away from his shoulder a little. He brushed his fingers lightly over the scar tissue between the metal and the skin.

Bucky flinched, and Steve pulled his hand back immediately.

“Does that hurt?” Steve asked, alarmed.

“It’s just a little sensitive,” Bucky explained.

Steve frowned again. “How did they…”

Bucky waited, but Steve couldn’t seem to figure out how to ask his question.

“How did they what,” Bucky prompted.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me asking about this?” Steve asked instead.

Bucky sighed and turned to face him completely, folding his legs in front of him. “I wouldn’t answer if I wasn’t.”

“Okay,” Steve said finally. “I just wondered… I mean, I know you heal pretty quickly.”

“Not as fast as you.”

“No, but still pretty quickly,” Steve said. “And your skin scars, but it still heals eventually. How did they…”

“How did they get this thing on me?” Bucky asked, holding his left arm up.

Steve nodded.

Bucky frowned, his eyes unfocusing slightly. “I don’t remember, exactly. I don’t remember them doing it, or talking about it. But I remember… they tried a few different versions at first. Now those, those hurt. Those hurt a hell of a lot more than this one. They didn’t work either. My body rejected them too quickly.”

Steve was starting to look a little sick again, but he was the one who’d asked the question.

“This one was the only one that finally worked,” Bucky continued. He pulled his collar down so that Steve could see the scars that stretched up his shoulder and neck again. “I don’t know why this one is different, but it works.”

Steve reached out and ran his hand over the scars. “You don’t have to live with this, Buck. I know you don’t trust Stark but I could talk to someone else, we could – “

Bucky flipped backward off the bed so quickly that Steve jumped. They stared at each other for a moment before Bucky turned and walked over to the room’s mini-fridge. He pulled a bottle of water out and drank it slowly, his back to Steve.

“Bucky?”

“No,” Bucky said. “I don’t want it taken off.”

Steve was quiet. “It’s hurting you – “

“I don’t care,” Bucky said. He took another drink of water and then turned around to face Steve again. “It’s mine.”

“Okay,” Steve said finally. “But – “

“No,” Bucky said again.

Steve sighed, but Bucky watched him give in. “Okay.”

Bucky waited, but Steve was fiddling with the bedspread in front of him quietly.

“Besides,” Bucky said after a while. He pulled a package of crackers out of the duffel bag and started eating. “You can’t just take it off, anyway.”

Steve looked up. “Why?”

“It’s all wired into here,” Bucky said. He drew a line up his left shoulder with his right hand until his fingers rested against the side of his head. “Well, I mean, you _can_ just take it off. But it’ll hurt like hell, almost as bad as losing it the first time.”

“Okay,” Steve said hastily. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

“Well, probably not, actually,” Bucky said thoughtfully, more to himself than to Steve. “The first time was pretty bad. It was half-rotted by the time they cut it off – “

Steve’s face turned an interesting mix of white and green. Bucky knew it was mean, but he laughed a little anyway.

“You never used to be so squeamish, Rogers,” Bucky said. He leaned back against the table, eating his crackers.

“I’m not squeamish,” Steve said, but the current colour of his face said differently. “I just… I just don’t like to hear about you being in pain.”

Bucky ate another cracker. “I think it bothers you more than it bothers me.”

Steve stared at him for a moment. “Jesus.”

Bucky laughed, tossing the crackers back into the duffel bag. “Come on, let’s go get some more clothes.”

Steve made a face. “We aren’t going to steal them, are we? I have money. I can pay.”

Bucky glanced at the alarm clock. “It’s five in the morning. If you can find a store that’s open at five in the morning, you can pay for them.”

Steve took the assignment very seriously, and somehow ended up finding a department store that opened at six. Bucky found them another car while Steve picked out some clothes and bought them. Bucky did not buy the car.

They stopped for lunch in another small town off the highway. The town consisted of a single main street and then a few rows of houses. Steve went into a fast-food place while Bucky drove the car to a nearby gas station. He pulled up across the street from the restaurant and got out, leaning against the car as he waited.

Steve appeared a few moments later, already halfway through a hamburger.

“You sure you didn’t want anything?” he asked as he finished the last bite.

“Yes,” Bucky said. He turned to unlock the car again.

“Excuse me!” a voice called from behind them. Bucky tensed, but Steve just turned calmly around.

A woman darted across the street, pulling a small child behind her. The boy was staring at Steve with wide eyes.

“Excuse me,” the woman said again. “You’re Captain America, aren’t you?”

Steve shot an apologetic look at Bucky, who had slunk back into the shadows behind the car.

“Yes,” Steve said, turning back to the woman.

Her face lit up. “Oh my god, this is so wonderful. I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind signing an autograph for my other son? He’s a huge fan.”

“Sure,” Steve said slowly. Bucky could see how tense his shoulders were, but Steve smiled at the boy while the mother dug frantically in her purse. “What’s your name?”

“Aidan,” the boy said quietly.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Aidan,” Steve said.

“My other son’s name is Tyler,” the woman said. She finally pulled a notebook and a pen out of her purse and held them out to Steve.

“Okay,” Steve said. He flipped the notebook open and took the pen from her.

“Steve, don’t move,” Bucky said quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lil cliffhanger MY BAD I'M SORRY


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry bout that cliffhanger folks

Steve, to his credit, froze instantly. He didn’t even flinch as Bucky shot the woman straight through the head.

She dropped to the ground, thankfully collapsing backwards and not forward into Steve. The child standing beside her watched with vague disinterest as she crumpled onto the cement.

Distantly, Bucky heard the familiar sound of screaming as the civilians on the street around them started to panic and run. Bucky ignored it.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, still standing completely still.

“Don’t move,” Bucky said again. He stepped over the body of the woman and grabbed the child’s arm. The boy didn’t fight him at all, just watched with the same apathy with which he’d stared at his ‘mother’.

Bucky pulled a knife from his belt and swiftly sliced open the boy’s arm. He didn’t make a sound, and Bucky used the tip of his knife to sever the tendons around the tracker embedded in his muscles. Bucky twisted the knife, and the tracker came free of the boy’s arm.

“Run,” Bucky said, and let go of his arm. The boy stared at him for a moment longer and then turned and ran down the street. He disappeared into the mass of screaming and panicking civilians.

Bucky scanned the chaos around them. There were only two others that he could see. The one that was crouched on top of a general store across the street had a sniper rifle. Bucky scowled at him and shot him too. The man clearly hadn’t been expecting Bucky to be able to get him from this distance. A mistake.

Another man ran from an alley a few stores down. Bucky didn’t bother wasting another bullet and threw a knife instead. This man had time to scream as the knife pierced his eye. He dropped the ground, howling in agony.

“Bucky,” Steve said again. His voice was strained. Bucky didn’t blame him. Holding perfectly still was not a particularly physically demanding task, but the mental strain of it was overwhelming to people who weren’t used to it.

Bucky was satisfied that he’d taken care of the other immediate threats. He turned back to Steve.

“Bucky,” Steve repeated. “I’m only holding a pen and a notebook.”

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“So,” Steve said, his voice tight. “Which one’s the bomb?”

“The pen,” Bucky said. “Don’t click the retractable part.”

“I’ve already got it pushed halfway down. That’s how you use a goddamn pen,” Steve said.

“Well, don’t push it down any further,” Bucky said.

“Great,” Steve said. “What kind of blast radius does this thing have?”

“Not that far,” Bucky said. “It’s mostly meant for the person holding it and the few people around them.”

“Do I have time to throw it away from me?”

“No,” Bucky said. “It’ll blow if you move your hand even the slightest bit, at this point. I’m kind of surprised it hasn’t already.”

Steve breathed in through his nose, although he was careful not to do so too deeply. “You need to step back, Bucky.”

Bucky frowned at him. “No. Let me think about this for a second.”

“There’s nothing to think about, we both know that,” Steve said tightly. “Come on, Buck.”

Bucky ignored him. “If I close my left hand around yours, it might help to contain some of the blast –“

“That’s a terrible idea,” Steve said.

“We’d be quite the pair if we both had our arms blown off,” Bucky said. Steve laughed carefully.

“Is everyone else clear?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Bucky said. “It’s just us.”

“Okay,” Steve said, the muscles in his face relaxing slightly.

“Just let me think,” Bucky muttered. Steve waited.

“Buck?” he said after a moment.

“What.”

“Is this going to kill me?” Steve asked.

“No,” Bucky said slowly. “Knowing you, probably not.”

“But it’s going to hurt.”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “Explosions mean burns and burns hurt.”

“Okay,” Steve said. His jaw was tightly clenched. “That’s okay. But you have to step back, Bucky. You’ve had enough pain for one lifetime.”

“So have you,” Bucky said distractedly. “Wait, okay, hold on. Your shield’s in the car, right?”

“Yeah, in the backseat. But Bucky – “

“Okay, don’t move,” Bucky said. “I’m going to grab it and I’m going to put it between you and your hand. It won’t stop that thing from exploding, but it’ll protect you from the worst of it.”

Steve didn’t say anything.

“Steve,” Bucky prompted.

Steve breathed out through his nose again. “Okay. Do it.”

Bucky should have expected it, really. He knew Steve well enough to expect it. He was panicked, though, and his only thought was how to get Steve out of this. And so he did not expect it, and he ran back over to the car without looking back.

He’d just grabbed the handle of the car door when he heard the small ‘click’. The explosion hit a split second later, slamming Bucky against the car and then sideways onto the cement.

He lay there for just a moment afterward, blinking frantically as his vision flashed. His ears were roaring, but that too had already started to fade.

Bucky still couldn’t see well, but his hands scrabbled against the pavement and he struggled to his feet again. He leaned against the car for support, dragging himself forward.

Steve was on the ground next to the building. Bucky dropped to his knees beside him, his vision starting to finally clear a little.

Steve was alive, at least. Just like Bucky had predicted. His eyes were open and he was staring up at the sky, his chest heaving erratically.

Bucky didn’t have to take Steve’s jacket off to see the extent of the damage because most of it was burned away already. The blast from the bomb had, thankfully, missed most of Steve’s head. The burns stretched up one side of his jaw, but for the most part his neck and throat were clear. That was good.

The burns stretched over the majority of Steve’s chest and shoulders. The worst of it had hit the ribs on Steve’s left side. The bomb had ripped through most of Steve’s skin and muscle on that side of his torso, leaving a mess of blood behind.

“Steve?” Bucky said. His voice sounded muted to his ears, and he realized belatedly that Steve probably couldn’t hear him speak either. Sure enough, Steve’s eyes continued to rove blankly, and he didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard Bucky’s voice.

Bucky didn’t particularly want to make Steve move, but he knew there’d be more people coming for them, and coming quickly.

“Sorry,” Bucky said quietly. He got up and stumbled back over to the car, grabbing Steve’s shield. He nearly fell as he walked back over to Steve. 

“Sorry,” Bucky said again.  He gingerly slid his left arm under Steve’s, and then pulled him upright.

Steve didn’t have enough air in his lungs to scream properly, but his face contorted and Bucky could feel his muscles jerk.

Steve still didn’t seem to be able to see or hear him, but he was conscious enough to stay upright as Bucky hauled him up. Bucky winced as he took almost Steve’s entire weight.

“Sorry, Steve,” Bucky said. “But we gotta walk, okay?”

He stared forward, his arm wrapped as firmly as he could get it around Steve’s back. Steve’s breathing was harsh in Bucky’s ear, but he was walking. Sort of. Bucky was mostly dragging him.

Thankfully, the civilians had all fled by then. Bucky pulled Steve onto a side street. The neighbourhood was quiet and picturesque, at stark odds with the way that Steve and Bucky looked.

They weren’t going to get far. Bucky knew that. Steve was conscious now, but Bucky doubted he was going to be for long. He was taking a little more of his own weight now, but Bucky could also hear him start to moan as he became more conscious. They didn’t have long before Steve woke up fully and felt the full force of his injuries.

Bucky randomly chose one of the houses that lined the street. It wasn’t nearly as far away as he wanted, but it would have to do.

He dragged Steve up the path and around the back of the house. There was a small side door set in between two flower pots. Bucky didn’t waste time looking for a key. He kicked the lock once, and the door swung open.

They stumbled forward into a cool, dark kitchen. Steve dropped, and Bucky barely managed to catch him before he crashed into the floor.

Bucky let him slump against the wall. He got up and shut the door behind them, glancing around the house quickly. There were no sounds, and Bucky was reasonably satisfied that no one was home.

Steve moaned again. When Bucky looked back, Steve’s eyes were finally focused on him.

“Hey,” Bucky said quickly. He knelt down in front of him. “Can you hear me?”

Steve stared at him, his breath coming more rapidly. He blinked once, and then flinched. He pressed both of his hands to the wound on his side.

“Stop,” Bucky said quickly. He grabbed Steve’s arms and pulled his hands away, wincing as he felt the heat of the burns on his arms. “You’re gonna make it worse, trust me.”

“Hurts,” Steve rasped out.

“I know,” Bucky said. “Just sit still, okay?”

Steve was already fidgeting, though. Bucky held onto his arms, but Steve twisted beneath his hands. Bucky was familiar with the pain he was in. It was hard to stay still when it still felt like your body was on fire. Every instinct told you to move, to get away.

“I think you might have lost a vital organ or two there,” Bucky said, aiming for humour. He was still trying not to look at the gaping hole in the side of Steve’s torso. “Gonna take you a while to grow those back.”

Steve moaned again, but his eyes were a little more focused now.

Bucky stared at him desperately. This probably wouldn’t be fatal for Steve, but this kind of injury… this would take a while for even Steve to heal from. His wounds needed to be cleaned and dressed properly, not to mention the amount of painkillers he was going to need.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Steve stared at him desperately, but Bucky pulled away and walked into the living room.

There was a fancy computer sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, the monitor already on. Bucky calmly walked to it and opened a web browser. He typed the words ‘Stark Industries’ into the search bar, vaguely noticing that he was getting blood all over the keyboard.

Bucky memorized the first phone number that popped up on the website and glanced around the room again. There was a landline phone on the coffee table, and Bucky grabbed it.

“Stark Industries,” a professional voice said when Bucky dialed the number. “This is Lisa, how may I help you?”

“Captain Rogers is injured,” Bucky said. He didn’t bother trying to disguise his voice. “Severely.”

The woman started talking, but Bucky ignored her and tossed the phone onto the couch without hanging up. They had about a half an hour, he figured.

“Bucky?” Steve said frantically from the other room.

Bucky stumbled back into the kitchen.

“Bucky,” Steve said desperately when he came in. He was still where Bucky had left him, except he now had his hands pressed into his side again.

“I’m right here,” Bucky said. “It’s okay, Steve.”

Bucky dropped to his knees again and gently pulled Steve’s hands back. Steve’s jaw was clenched tightly, his breaths short and rapid.

“You have to breathe more steadily,” Bucky said. Steve stared at him.

Bucky cast around for something to say.

“I know what you’re feeling,” Bucky said, a little desperately. “They tested my pain tolerances, once. I always broke on burns, every time. Cuts, punches, pressure… they were bad, of course, but it was burns that always got me.”

Steve looked even more horrified, and moaned again.

“Okay, bad topic,” Bucky said desperately. “Look, I can get some water for you, if you want. It doesn’t help the pain, really, but it sometimes helps to cool the skin a little – “

“No,” Steve rasped. He reached out and grabbed Bucky’s wrist desperately.

“Okay,” Bucky said hurriedly. “Um, I’ll talk about something nice, okay? Something nicer than all of this.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but his grip relaxed slightly.

“When I first got out,” Bucky said. “After all of that… after all of that happened in DC. I was in Russia, and it took me a while to really get my head on straight. When I was finally coherent enough to be out in public, I went straight to a fast-food restaurant and ordered the greasiest stuff on the menu. Just picked everything that looked mildly good. I ate all of it, too. It was fucking delicious. I mean, I threw it all up after, but it was still great.”

Steve was still watching him, so Bucky continued. “Oh, okay, I’ve got another one. The first sunrise I watched? I was just outside of Germany, and you were pretty close behind me at that point. You were really good at guessing where I’d be next, did you know that?”

Steve gave him what _might_ have been considered a smile, so Bucky kept talking.

“Anyway, it wasn’t the first sunrise I’d seen, but it was the first one I actually appreciated. So I was sitting there in the middle of someone’s field, trying to grab a few minutes of sleep because I kept passing out. I wasn’t paying much attention, but it was just… I dunno. It was really beautiful and I wasn’t used to seeing things like that. This is kind of a pointless story, but it’s a good memory for me.”

Bucky kept rambling. He wasn’t that great at talking in coherent sentences at the best of times, but Steve was listening and so Bucky would keep talking.

Just as Bucky had guessed, they came thirty minutes later. Bucky heard the familiar sound of a jet settling into the neighbourhood.

“I gotta go, Stevie,” Bucky said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this, and I’m sorry you’re in pain now.”

“No,” Steve croaked again. His hands tightened around Bucky’s.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said quickly. “But Steve… I know I’ve been… thank you, okay? For this. For this last while. And you’re gonna be fine now. I’m sure they’d got all sorts of fancy painkillers for you. Lots of smart doctors, too.”

“Bucky,” Steve rasped. Bucky pulled his hands free of Steve’s, clenching his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said again. “You’re gonna be okay, Stevie.”

Bucky ducked out the back door of the house and bolted for the trees behind the house. He could still hear Steve trying to say his name even as he ran.

He made it a few houses down and then lay down in the shadows of the trees. He could see the street from here.

The jet was sleek and modern. It settled down right into the street, hovering before gently touching the ground. It wasn’t actually subtle, though, with the giant ‘Stark Industries’ logo emblazoned on the side.

The ramp came down moments after the jet landed. People poured out of it, running straight into the house that Bucky had just left. Romanov was there, distinctive even though her hair was now a dark brown. Steve’s friend Sam Wilson was there too.

Bucky watched them carry Steve out. He looked like he was unconscious at that point, and they rushed him back up the ramp quickly. Wilson and Romanov paused at the bottom of the ramp, scanning around the street.

Romanov eventually put her hand on Wilson’s shoulder, and they hurried up the ramp too. The jet’s engines whirred, and it lifted into the air again. They’d left a few people behind, who were now bustling around the house. Probably a cleanup crew.

The world start to spin a little more, but Bucky tried to get to his feet anyway. It didn’t work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its goin down I'm yelling timber


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"On My Own" from the hit musical Les Miserables plays sadly in the background*

Bucky woke up with his face pressed into the mud. The sun was a little lower in the sky than it had been before.

He bit back a groan and slowly pushed himself back to his feet. He stumbled against a tree as he stood up, and had to lean there for a moment as his head spun.

He took stock of his injuries as he slunk back through the neighbourhood, keeping to the trees and to the shadows. His head ached sharply on one side, and he was pretty sure that was where the blood that was still running down his face was coming from. The blood was making his hair and face sticky and getting in his eyes, but it would probably stop soon enough. It wasn’t all that bad. He had two broken fingers on his right hand, but he cracked them back into place. Other than that, he only had a few burns and scrapes. Nothing too drastic.

It wasn’t hard to find the location of the remaining Hydra agents. Bucky knew Hydra. He knew their patterns.

Sure enough, he found some nondescript dark vans parked behind a clothing store just off the main street. He kicked open the back door of the store and stumbled inside.

The stacks of clothes had been shoved to the side of the room, leaving plenty of space for the racks of computers and guns stored across the room. The Hydra agents turned to stare at Bucky, a similar expression of fear and shock on each of their faces.

Bucky was not in the mood for a witty quip or a snarky comment. Instead, he just snarled and jumped forward.

It was over quickly. Bucky didn’t bother making it clean or neat. He killed most of them by simply throwing them against the walls and the counters. A few of them got their guns out in time, but Bucky just wrenched the weapons out of their hands and shot them with it.

One of the woman screamed as he killed her. It was shrill, and it hurt his head.

It was mercifully quiet when he finished. The only sound was the soft dripping of man’s blood against the floor.

Bucky forced himself to take a breath in. He wasn’t finished yet.

He didn’t bother to clean up, or even set the building on fire as he left. Hydra would know it had been him. He didn’t care. They could come after him all they wanted. It wasn’t like he’d be alive that much longer anyway.

Bucky found a car a few blocks up and hot-wired it. His hand shook a little as he did so, but he ignored it. He had to get out of this town.

He didn’t even pay attention to which way he was going as he pulled back onto the highway. He floored it, ignoring the rude hand gestures of the drivers he sped past.

He didn’t get all that far before he had to pull into another town. The blood on his face was making it difficult to see the road, and he didn’t particularly want to add a car crash on top of everything else.

He drove around another run-down neighbourhood until he found a house that looked like it had been vacant for a while. Mail was piled up in the mailbox, and the lawn was wild and untended.

The sun had started to set by then, and Bucky made it around the back of the house without anyone noticing.

The handle broke easily under his hand, and Bucky shut the door quietly behind him. The house was quiet and still inside.

Bucky headed straight for the shower. He turned the water on and peeled his jacket off.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the dirty mirror. The weak fluorescent lights of the washroom made his skin look even more sallow than it normally did. The dark circles under his eyes looked even worse with the blood that was now dried all over his face.

He pulled his shirt over his head, noticing the dark bruising over his right shoulder and arm for the first time.

The grooves of his left arm were filled with blood again. He raised his hand and then clenched his fist, watching as the blood of the people that he’d just murdered start to drip into the sink. It still hadn’t dried completely.

Bucky turned away and finished stripping his clothes off. He barely even felt the cold water against his skin as he scrubbed at his face and hair.

He grabbed a dirty towel from the rack beside the shower and turned the water off. He dried himself as he wandered into the bedroom next to the washroom.

At least one of the occupants of the house was male, and about Bucky’s size. He helped himself to some of the clothes in the closet, absentmindedly keeping the towel pressed to his head to slow the bleeding as he did so.

He grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, chugging it down quickly. He figured he should probably eat something at some point, and he wandered around the kitchen opening the cupboards. Nothing looked appealing, and Bucky thought wistfully of that specific type of crackers that Steve kept buying for him.

Bucky felt his tired muscles start to tense again as he thought about it. Jesus fucking Christ, he hadn’t asked for this. He’d specifically gone out of his way to avoid these situations. He’d known that if he had something, if he something wonderful like the time he’d spent with Steve, that he’d have something else to lose again. And sure as hell, he’d been proven right. Now that he was alone again, it all seemed colder and more horrible than it had before Steve had found him. He’d gotten used to his presence, his optimism. Everything was dark now. Dark, quiet, and fucking lonely.

Bucky turned and threw the water glass against the wall behind him. It shattered everywhere, and Bucky ignored it. He stormed back through the house and out into the yard again.

He got into the car and slammed the door behind him. He was back on the highway within minutes, speeding to his next destination.

He checked the news later that evening, and discovered that Lynsey was overseas and would not be returning for another week. Bucky headed down to Wisconsin instead, and took out a target there. With that crossed off his list, he headed back up to go for Lynsey.

He ran into a few obstacles along the way. Admittedly, a lot of that was his fault. He hadn’t realized how much better he’d started to feel when he was with Steve. Between Steve convincing him to eat and Steve convincing him to sleep, Bucky had started to have more energy than he’d had since he’d been with Hydra. Now that was gone, and Bucky was back in his old habit of getting by on as little of both as possible.

He didn’t sleep if he could avoid it. Occasionally he’d pull his car over to the side of the road for a few minutes and slump down in his seat. He’d close his eyes for a few minutes at a time before he’d jerk back awake again, heart pounding.

Bucky could remember the names of the brands of snacks Steve would buy, but the thought of going into a crowded grocery store during the day was overwhelming. He stuck to his usual fare of gas station snacks and water bottles, which even he knew wasn’t enough to sustain him.

His target in Wisconsin was (luckily for Bucky) an easy kill. By the time he was back on the road, though, his vision was blurring and his muscles were aching. He was getting confused more and more often, too. That morning he’d woken up in his car and immediately kicked the side door open in a panic. He couldn’t figure out where he was, and what he was doing there. It had taken several minutes of frantically pacing the highway before he remembered his mission. He’d made a few wrong turns along the way as well, even though he’d memorized the route. His mind kept drifting, and he’d lose minutes or even hours thinking about too many things at once (or sometimes nothing at all.) He kept finding himself driving down random side roads and alleyways, thinking he was back in Russia or in Europe before he remembered his real route.

He sometimes fell asleep behind the wheel. He woke up from one of those events when his face slammed into the steering wheel and his right hand cracked against the car dashboard.

Bucky pushed the side door of the car open and stumbled out, blinking sluggishly. He’d gone straight off the road and into a tree, managing to wrap the car around the tree in a truly spectacular fashion.

Bucky winced, feeling another fracture in his right hand and some definite bruising along the side of this face. He’d been lucky to walk away with only those injuries, though. Fuck, he was tired. He was a little tempted to just get back into the half-crushed car and take another nap.

A car screeched to a halt on the highway beside him, and a man jumped out.

“Are you okay?” he called frantically. “Are you hurt? I saw what happened!”

Bucky turned to him, feeling his face slip back into its regular furious glare.

The man frowned slightly as Bucky took a step forward. The moonlight reflected off of Bucky’s left hand, and the man glanced at it. There was no recognition in his face, though. Just genuine concern.

“Get back in your car,” Bucky said slowly. “And keep driving. Forget you saw me here.”

The man took a few steps backward, but his face was still creased with concern.

“But you crashed,” he said desperately. “You need medical attention.”

“Get back in your car,” Bucky repeated. His voice was low and dangerous, and the man turned and ran. He jumped into his car and took off again.

Bucky braced his hands against his knees and tried to catch his breath. He was weak and dizzy and the world kept spinning around him in nauseating circles.

Bucky took a deep breath in through his nose, stumbled back upright, and then started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends come find me on tumblr [here](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)!!!


	19. Chapter 19

It took him longer than it should have to get to California. By the time he got a new car and got back on the road, he was already feeling sick and confused and dizzy again. When he finally crossed the border into the state, he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He was almost there.

It was morning when he finally drove into Lynsey’s neighbourhood. He scouted out the property in the daylight, and then drove to a secluded parking lot. He managed to sleep for a few hours curled up in the car, and he did feel a little better after that.

He waited until midnight to move. He left the car in the parking lot and walked through the neighbourhood to Lynsey’s house. He’d picked up some newer guns and knives on his way to California, and his coat was bulky from where they were strapped to his body. Lynsey lived in a large, affluent neighbourhood. Mansions surrounded by palm trees and high gates lined the streets, and the neighbourhood was dark and silent at this time of night. Although the risk of actually being spotted by anyone was minimal, nearly all of the houses had security cameras mounted on the fences surrounding each property. It made getting to the house a little like walking through a minefield.

Bucky scaled the wall easily. There were two security guards patrolling the yard, but they were so unobservant that Bucky didn’t even bother killing them. He cleanly knocked both of them out and left them where they were. It was sloppy and careless, but he was tired and he just didn’t really care.

The locks on the side door of the house were strong and fortified, but a lock was only useful as long as it was still attached to the door. Bucky slammed his left hand into the lock, and watched with disinterest as the door splinted away from the frame. Bucky kicked it open and walked in.

The house was quiet and still when Bucky walked in. No alarm sounded, and Bucky made his way through the basement and up onto the main floor of the mansion.

He made his way across the polished wood floors, skirting around the expensive statues that were obtrusively placed in every hallway.

He had just turned the corner into the kitchen when he heard a small sound to his right.

Bucky turned to see a teenage girl sitting at the kitchen counter, a laptop open in front of her. She was dressed in pajamas, and was eating a piece of toast while staring intently at the screen.

Bucky frowned. He’d known that Lynsey had a daughter, but every article had clearly stated that she was away at boarding school in France.

The girl was clearly not away at boarding school, and she turned and looked straight at Bucky. She gasped and jumped, falling off her chair in the process.

She started to scream, pressing herself back against the counter. Bucky didn’t really blame her.

“Mom!” she yelled in between shrieks of fear. “Mom, help!”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Michelle Lynsey appeared in the living room.

“Abby?” she shouted as she ran down the stairs. She too was wearing pajamas, a bathrobe wrapped hastily around her.

“Mom!” Abby shouted. Lynsey ran to her, skidding to a halt as she caught sight of Bucky standing in the darkness.

Recognition flicked across Lynsey’s face, and her eyes narrowed.

“Are you here to kill me?” Lynsey asked.

Bucky stared impassively at her. Normally he wouldn’t have wasted time like this, but the girl was standing to close to Lynsey. None of this was her fault. She didn’t deserve to die because of her mother’s choices.

Quicker than Bucky had expected, Lynsey reached out and grabbed a knife from the counter. She grabbed her daughter by the hair and pulled the girl in front of her, holding the knife to her chest.

“Mom?” Abby said, confusion twisting her face. “Mom!”

“Make one move, and I’ll kill her,” Lynsey snarled.

“Mom?” Abby said again, her voice verging on hysteria.

Bucky lifted his gun and pointed it at Lynsey’s head. “Why would I care about your daughter’s life?”

Abby started to cry.

Lynsey smirked, digging the knife deeper into Abby’s skin as the girl struggled. “I know you. I’ve hired you. You don’t kill anyone who you haven’t specifically been told to target.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I pick the targets now.”

Lynsey’s eyes widened. Her knife bit into her daughter’s chest, and Bucky pulled the trigger.

Abby howled, both from pain and the feeling of her mother’s blood spattering her face. Lynsey collapsed, pulling Abby to the ground with her.

Bucky sighed. Why did everything he did have to be so _messy._

Bucky walked over to the phone lying on the kitchen table. He dialed 911 and tossed the phone on the counter.

Abby was struggling to get free of her mother’s body. She was trying to pull the knife out of her chest, but the handle was too slippery with blood for her to grasp it properly.

Bucky grabbed a thick blanket that was strewn over the back of the couch and walked over to her. He knelt down next to Abby.

She stared at him, her eyes bloodshot and smeared with mascara. She struggled backward, her hands now slipping in her mother’s blood.

Bucky sighed again.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, as gently as he could. It probably didn’t sound all that gentle.

Abby sobbed again, but stopped trying to slide backward.

Bucky carefully lifted the blanket and pressed it carefully against the wound. He made sure not to press against the knife.

“Don’t pull it out,” he said quietly. Abby was still crying, but she nodded.

“I don’t understand,” she said desperately. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

He wrapped what was left of the blanket around Abby’s shoulders.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. He pressed more firmly on her wound. “I’m sorry, for this. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“But my mom,” Abby said. She twisted to look at her mother’s body, and Bucky hastily grabbed her shoulders to keep her still. “She… I… she stabbed me.”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “Try not to talk.”

Abby closed her eyes, but the tears continued to run down her face. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. He tried to think of what Steve would do in this situation. Fuck, he wished Steve was here. “Well, it isn’t. But you’ll survive.”

Abby cried for the next few minutes. Bucky waited until he heard the familiar sound of sirens approaching before he got up. He gently guided Abby’s hands to hold the blanket to her own chest.

When the ambulance and police cars pulled into the driveway of the house, Bucky was scaling the fence again. He walked back to the car he’d left.

More police cars drove past him as he pulled out of the neighbourhood. The blood covering Bucky’s hands was still warm and sticky, and the steering wheel was soon covered in it too. Bucky grimaced as he tried to turn a corner and his hands slid uselessly around the wheel.

Fucking hell, he was tired. He was so close to being done. He was so close, and he was so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil chapter for you guys. thank you all so much for the comments, I love them all so much


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the kudos and comments!!! I love you!!!
> 
> Side note: I fell asleep three times while writing this chapter 
> 
> TW for suicidal thoughts and a mention of drug use.

He only had a few targets left, not including Stark. He made his way back through the country, each state blurring into another as he drove. He started losing track of what day it was. He slept when he could, and paid no mind to whether it was day or night. It didn’t matter.

He changed cars occasionally, leaving his previous one in a parking lot or parked on a side street. He found a motel that charged by the hour, and stopped just long enough to take a quick, cold shower before he was on the road again. His hair was already growing back into his eyes, and he chopped it off again with one of his knives.

Bucky occasionally broke into a few stores late at night, leaving the security guards unharmed. He took a few changes of clothes and some food before leaving again. He only ate when he got so dizzy that he couldn’t walk properly, and even then he could only manage small bites of bread or crackers.

He tried drugs again. They were easy to buy, if you knew where to look. He wasn’t all that surprised to find that they barely had an effect on him anymore. He bought a massive amount of coke one evening, in a desperate attempt to keep him awake through the night. All that it did was give him a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his chest and an irregular heartbeat. He started to sweat, and then passed out for a few hours on the side of the road. He woke up feeling even more terrible than he had before.

He was very aware of the irony of his situation. He’d gone from being one of the world’s best assassins to… whatever he was now. He was still an assassin, he supposed, albeit a very slow and weak one. His hands shook so badly when he killed his next target that he almost missed. His left arm seemed to be getting heavier and more painful with every passing hour, even though he knew it was just the muscles in his back and shoulders weakening. He hadn’t had a lot of body fat to begin with, and now even his muscles were disappearing as his body desperately searched for fuel. His heartbeat was irregular all the time now, often leaving him breathless and exhausted. It occurred to him that he might even die of natural causes before he finished his mission. It probably wouldn’t be the worst way to go.

He was confused all the time. It was almost as bad as when he’d first been free from Hydra. He wrote the names and addresses of his targets on a notebook that he kept in his jacket at all times, but even that sometimes didn’t help. He often forgot he had the notebook at all, and would only remember what he was supposed to be doing when he felt its weight in his pocket. A few times he found himself just sitting on the sidewalk in random towns, staring at nothing. It would take another few minutes of driving aimlessly around before he’d see a street sign and remember where he was.

There was one terrifying morning when he forgot his name. He woke up from a nap, slumped over the center console of the car, and realized he didn’t know what his name was. He knew who he was, he knew where he was, and he knew what he was doing. He remember Steve’s name, clear as day. He knew what year it was. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember his own damn name.

He pulled over on the side of the highway and nearly fell out of the car. He stumbled down the shoulder of the road and braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He pushed himself back upright, staring out over the dull fields that surrounded the highway. He forced more cold air into his lungs, the metal of his left hand cold against his head as he pulled at his hair.

His name was Bucky.

Bucky finally pulled some air into his lungs. Jesus, it was so simple. He knew it now. Of course that was his name. But a moment before, it had just been… gone. Like there was a space where his name should be.

Bucky got back into the car, slamming the door shut behind him. He pulled back onto the highway, ignoring the way his hand shook on the steering wheel and the way his lungs struggled to pull in enough air.

 

The target lived in a small town in Florida. Bucky didn’t bother to scope out the house beforehand. He was too tired.

He double-checked the address, and then parked his car a few streets down. His heavy jacket stood out in the humid Florida warmth, but he didn’t really care about that either. He’d lost the ability to be subtle a long time ago.

He made his way through the quiet streets, his shirt starting to stick to his skin. His eyes threatened to close of their own accord as he walked.

The target’s house was small and inconspicuous. It was painted a light blue, with a small yard and a ratty fence surrounding it. A broken kiddie pool and the remains of a plastic desk chair were scattered across the lawn.

Bucky walked all the way up to the front gate before he noticed Steve sitting on the porch.

He was sitting with his feet on the steps, his elbows resting on his knees. He was dressed more appropriately for the weather than Bucky was, in jeans and a simple t-shirt.

“Hey,” Steve said. Bucky stared blearily at him.

“Hey,” Bucky said back, his voice was harsh and came out sounding gravelly and broken.

“Toby Carson?” Steve asked, pointing at the house behind him. Bucky nodded.

“We took him in last night,” Steve said. “Handed him over to the government this morning. Gave them all the evidence of his crimes, too.”

Bucky tried to stay on his feet, but his knees were threatening to give out. He was so tired.

“How’d you know?” Bucky asked. “I never told you my targets’ names.”

Steve shrugged. “Did my research. Turns out some of my friends are pretty good at getting their hands on Hydra’s old files.”

Bucky watched with disinterest as sparkles and flashes of colour danced across the edge of his vision. “And Stark? You talk to him?”

Steve nodded, his face grave. “I did. There was a lot of shouting and frantic research. A few people cried.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t him,” Steve said. “They showed me the documents, Buck. It really wasn’t him. Back then, he wasn’t really… well, apparently he wasn’t really in charge of the company. There were other people… I don’t know, it’s complicated. I’m not saying he’s blameless. He should have known what his company was doing. But as it stands, he didn’t know. He didn’t know about the deal with Hydra, and it wasn’t him that ordered it.”

A mosquito landed on Bucky’s right arm. He didn’t bother to brush it off. He absent-mindedly wondered if it would like the taste of his serum-enhanced blood. Would it make the mosquito stronger? That was a bad thought. Monster mosquitos. He wouldn’t want to be the one to deal with that.

“Bucky?”

Bucky belatedly realized that Steve was still talking.

“Sorry,” Bucky said automatically. Well, if Stark was off the list, than that meant he was done. The mission was over. There was nothing left to do.

He’d honestly expected to feel a great sense of relief, or maybe anger even. He didn’t actually feel anything. He was just tired.

“Okay,” Bucky said. He tried to make his eyes focus on Steve’s face. “Fine. I’ll leave Stark alone.”

Steve looked relieved. “That’s great, Buck. Thank you.”

Bucky shrugged, watching as the mosquito flew away. “I guess I’ll see you around, Steve.”

He turned and started walking again, but his left knee gave out and he stumbled. He grabbed onto the splintered fence and used it for support as he walked.

“Bucky,” Steve called. Bucky heard the sound of him jogging to catch up.

“Bucky,” Steve said again. He stepped in front of Bucky, and Bucky stopped walking. He put more of his weight onto the fence, distantly wondering what would happen if it broke.

“What are you going to do now?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. The original plan had been to shoot himself, but now even that seemed like too much effort. Maybe he’d just go lie down in a field somewhere and wait. It probably wouldn’t take long, considering how shitty he felt right now.

“Come with me,” Steve said, a little desperately. “Please, Buck.”

“Steve,” Bucky said slowly. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Steve said. “I know you’re tired. You can rest.”

Bucky ignored him and stumbled past him. His vision was blurry.

“Carl Kristoffson,” Steve called after him. Bucky stopped.

“What about him,” Bucky said without turning around.

“He’s alive,” Steve said. “He’s got a house up in northern Norway. Hikers and scientists keep going missing up by there.”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “He’s dead. The reports said he was dead.”

“They were faked.”

Bucky snarled and turned around. “Why the fuck are you doing this, Steve.”

Steve stared evenly back at him. “Because I don’t want you to die.”

“I hate you,” Bucky hissed, the familiar stirring of rage swirling through his body again. “Why can’t you just fucking let me go?”

Steve didn’t flinch. “I’m not going to stop you. I’m just extending you an invitation. We’re going there late next week. You can come if you want.”

“I’m not working for you, or for Stark.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Steve said. “You’d be working with us. Stark probably won’t even come. There’s only going to be a few of us going.”

Bucky tried to throw more insults at him, but both his legs gave out and he dropped to ground. Steve reached for him, but Bucky scrambled back out of his reach.

“I hate that guy,” Bucky said, although his voice trembled and his lungs struggled. “Even more than I hate you.”

“Then come with me,” Steve said. He didn’t seem phased by Bucky’s insults.

Bucky glared at him. He didn’t particularly want to go, but he needed to make sure Kristoffson was dead.

“Fine,” Bucky said, mostly because he was too tired to argue.

Steve’s face lit up. “Bucky, I…”

“Save it,” Bucky mumbled. He pulled himself upright and started walking again.

Steve walked beside him, talking happily. “My car’s just around the corner. We have to go back up to New York, but the drive probably won’t be all that long.”

“Whatever,” Bucky muttered again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [follow me into the dark](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)


	21. Chapter 21

Steve’s car was a shiny dark SUV. Steve pulled the keys out of his pocket and then hesitated, staring at Bucky carefully. Bucky ignored him and went straight for the passenger side.

He slumped into the seat, pulling the door closed behind him. He leaned it against it, the glass window cool against his skin.

Steve quietly got into the driver’s seat. The car roared to life, and Bucky closed his eyes as the world outside started to move.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Steve asked after a few minutes.

“No,” Bucky said. He didn’t open his eyes, his mind already drifting.

“You don’t look too good, Buck.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky said, but he was too tired to put any real venom into the words.

“You know what I mean,” Steve said. Bucky didn’t respond.

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the sun was up when he opened his eyes again. Lifting his head felt like too much work, so he didn’t bother.

Steve was still driving, the morning sunlight casting a soft glow across his face. There was no sign of the injuries that had marred his skin the last time Bucky had been with him. He looked a hell of a lot more rested than Bucky felt, though. Steve leaned his arm against the car door as he drove, his face calm and thoughtful and familiar.

Bucky felt his mind start to drift again, and his eyes slipped closed.

 

“Bucky.”

He opened his eyes, his muscles too tired to tense up. Steve was leaning through the open driver’s side door, looking at him.

“Hmmn?” Bucky said.

“We’re gonna stop for the night,” Steve said quietly. “Is that okay?”

Bucky slowly sat upright. Sure enough, it was dark again. They were in the parking lot of a hotel.

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered. He opened his car door and fell out onto the concrete.

“Jesus,” he heard Steve say. Bucky pushed himself back to his feet before Steve could help him up.

“You all right?” Steve said carefully from somewhere behind him. Bucky ignored him and stumbled towards the hotel, his arms wrapped around himself.

Steve led the way to the hotel room. Bucky followed behind, his feet scuffing the carpet as he walked.

He followed Steve into the hotel room. His skin immediately started to crawl, all of instincts screaming at him to check the room for bugs or security gaps.

Bucky ignored it and went straight for the bed. He crawled on top of it just as his right arm gave out, dropping him unceremoniously on the mattress.

“Do you want to shower?” he heard Steve ask.

“Nah,” Bucky said. He closed his eyes again.

 

The room was quiet when he woke up. Bucky slowly sat up, feeling the muscles in his arm strain and protest against the movement.

The lights were still on in the room, but the sun was just starting to peak through the curtains. Steve was stretched out on the other bed, his face half covered by the pillow. There were a bunch of grocery bags next to him, along with some shopping bags.

Bucky swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He noticed a neat pile of clothes folded next to him, all in what looked like his size.

He picked them up and stumbled into the washroom, trying not to wake Steve up. He turned the shower on and stripped his old clothes off, leaving his guns and knives and notebooks in a pile on the counter.

He showered quickly, and then got dressed in the newer clothes. They felt good against his skin. He hadn’t realized how grimy he’d gotten after spending weeks on the road.

Steve was awake when Bucky re-emerged. He was sitting on the bed, eating a granola bar with one hand and typing something on his phone with the other.

“Hey,” Steve said cheerfully. “You look a little better.”

“I feel a little better,” Bucky muttered. He sat down on the other bed, running his hand through his damp hair. Now that his head was clearer, he felt guilty over the things that he’d said to Steve earlier.

“Here,” Steve said. He rummaged through the grocery bags and handed Bucky a water bottle.

“Thanks,” Bucky said. He sipped at it slowly. He hadn’t even realized how thirsty he’d been, or how dry and painful his throat was. He tipped the bottle back and drank down as much of it as he could.

“Um,” Steve said. “Maybe… maybe slow down, a little?”

Bucky ignored him and finished the bottle. His stomach twisted painfully, unused to dealing with anything than small bites of food or sips of water.

“You okay?” Steve said cautiously. Bucky braced his hands and nodded, breathing through his nose until he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up.

“I bought a bunch of stuff,” Steve said once Bucky opened his eyes again and relaxed a little. He held out a package of Bucky’s favourite crackers. “Maybe try these a little more slowly, though?”

Bucky nodded. Steve started packing up all of the new stuff he’d bought into a nice new duffel bag. Bucky sat and ate the crackers as slowly as he could.

He already felt stronger as he followed Steve out of the hotel and into the parking lot. It was a nice morning, with the sun warm against his face and a soft breeze brushing against his clothes.

“I like the car,” Bucky said as Steve tossed the duffel bag into the trunk.

Steve glanced at him, looking a little surprised. He was probably confused by the lack of animosity in Bucky’s words.

“Thanks,” Steve said doubtfully as he shut the trunk. “Sam said it’s the kind of a car a soccer mom drives. I like it, though. It holds a lot of stuff.”

“Definitely nicer than the ones I keep stealing,” Bucky said as he got into the passenger’s seat.

“I have a – “ Steve said, cutting himself off.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” Steve said hastily. He started the engine.

“Were you going to say you have another car?” Bucky asked.

Steve winced. “Well…”

Bucky laughed. The sound felt strange in his sore throat. “Why do you need more than one car?”

“I knew you were going to say that,” Steve said as he pulled the car out of the parking lot. “It’s wasteful, I know. But my motorcycle is my favourite, and then I needed something to drive in bad weather, and then I needed something more practical…”

“You have three cars.”

“The motorcycle doesn’t count,” Steve protested. “Besides, at least I paid for them.”

Bucky shrugged. “How much money do you have, anyway?”

Steve winced again. “A lot. More than I know what to do with. They gave me a bunch when they took me out of the ice, and then I earned a lot when I worked for Shield…”

“Hydra didn’t pay me,” Bucky said thoughtfully. “Guess I got the short end of the stick.”

Steve’s mouth twisted ruefully. “I’d say so, yeah.”

Bucky reclined his seat a little, stretching out his legs. He twisted behind him and grabbed the duffel bag. He pulled a container of muffins out and opened it. “Can I have one of these?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Bucky picked apart one of the muffins, eating it as slowly as he could. He already felt sleepy again. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really need my help?” Bucky asked. He leaned against the car door so that he could see Steve’s face. “Or did you just want me to come with you?”

Steve frowned slightly, staring out the window in front of him. “Um… both? We really are trying to take down Kristoffson. He’s dangerous, he’s hurting people, and Tony thinks he might be trying to make bioweapons.”

Bucky ate another piece of muffin. It had blueberries and chocolate in it. Bucky thought he liked it. “So why do you need me? You’ve got all the money in the world and all the firepower you could ever want. I’ve seen you guys fight.”

“In the files we found, it said that… well, it said that Kristoffson had contracted the Winter Soldier to work for him on multiple occasions.”

“He did,” Bucky said. He didn’t feel like elaborating on what those jobs had been.

Steve didn’t ask. “So I figured that you knew him. You might have some idea of how to approach the situation. How to deal with him.”

“I might,” Bucky said vaguely.

“Also, I just missed you,” Steve said. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I was fine,” Bucky said immediately. The exhaustion that was already dragging him back down said otherwise, but Bucky ignored it.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “It didn’t look like it.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky said. “I dunno, Steve. I just don’t get it. I don’t get what you get out of having me with you.”

Steve groaned. “We’ve been over this before, Bucky.”

“I know,” Bucky said. He tore a piece off another muffin. “But I’m… people get hurt around me, Steve. You saw that first-hand. I’m a liability. Not to mention that I doubt you’re hanging around for my winning personality. I’m kind of an asshole.”

“You are not,” Steve said, looking like Bucky had personally insulted him. “You’re not a liability, and you’re not an asshole. Besides, people get hurt around me too. You saw that first-hand.”

Bucky made a face at him. “Hey, don’t turn my own words against me.”

“They’re true.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bucky said. “I’m not the asshole, you are.”

Steve laughed. Bucky tried not to smile, but he liked the sound of Steve’s laugh too much.

“You know, nobody ever insults me like that anymore,” Steve said thoughtfully.

“Like what?” Bucky said as he finished the second muffin.

“Like you do,” Steve said. “Jokingly, you know? I feel like people assume I’ll take them seriously and get really offended or something. Sam’s probably the only one who gets close, but even he skirts around me sometimes. Natasha tries, but she isn’t really around all that much anyway.”

“You look so serious all the time,” Bucky told him. “That’s probably why. No one would ever assume you could take a joke.”

“I don’t look serious all the time!” Steve protested. “I’ve been told I look very approachable.”

“Approachable and serious.”

“Well, the only time I’m actually ever talking to people is usually in serious situations.”

“That’s pretty sad, Steve,” Bucky said solemnly.

Steve shrugged. “I know, I know. I haven’t really… I haven’t really had a lot of time to make friends.”

“And yet you have time to hunt down one of your very old ones and drag them all the way back to New York against their will?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You aren’t coming with me against your will. And yes, I had time to do that. Okay, maybe I should say that I’ve had… trouble making new friends. It’s kind of hard to relate to people, you know?”

“No,” Bucky said honestly. “Nobody really wants to be friends with me, except you. They either want to kill me or… kill me.”

“That’s pretty sad,” Steve said. Bucky tossed a piece of muffin at him.

“Well, stop being so solemn all the time,” Bucky said. “I bet you go around giving everyone your Captain America face.”

“What Captain America face?” Steve said innocently. “I only have one face.”

“Nah, you’ve got that charming smile and that ridiculous voice that you do,” Bucky said. “I’ve seen it. I remember it, Steve. It haunts my nightmares.”

Steve rolled his eyes again. “It does not. Besides, I don’t give the Captain America face to my friends.”

“You just said you don’t have any friends!”

“No, I said that even my friends don’t tease me like you do,” Steve said calmly. “I have friends. I have Sam and Nat.”

“Romanov?” Bucky said skeptically. “She’s your friend.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think she’s anybody friend.”

“Well, I think she’s mine,” Steve said. “And I like her.”

“Don’t know much about Wilson,” Bucky said. “Feel like he probably hates me though.”

Steve scoffed. “Sam? No, of course he doesn’t hate you.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I have a vague but definitive memory of throwing him off the edge of the helicarrier.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve said. “I’m sure you two can put it behind you.”

“Ah, yes,” Bucky said. “Attempted murder. It’s just water under the bridge.”

Steve shot him a look. “If that was a pun, it was terrible. Anyway, Sam understands. He knows about your… situation.”

Bucky shrugged. “A lot of people know about my ‘situation’. Doesn’t make them feel any better about their dead relatives or whatever.”

Steve sighed. “I’m telling you, Bucky. He’ll like you.”

“If you say so,” Bucky said. He slumped down in his seat a little, wiggling around until he got comfortable.

“You going back to sleep?” Steve asked.

“Mmmm,” Bucky said as his eyes slid closed.

“It’s fine, you know. You need the rest.”

“Mmmm,” Bucky said again. His mind was already drifting. The warmth of the car felt good on his tired body.

Steve kept talking quietly, and Bucky drifted off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does every chapter end with Bucky going back to sleep? I think so  
> That's probably because I immediately pass out after writing it


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve sighs a lot

“We’re here,” Steve said quietly. Bucky forced himself to open his eyes.

“Already?” he asked.

Steve smiled ruefully. “We’ve been driving for a while.”

It was dark outside, but Bucky could see the last rays of sunlight in the sky. He tugged his jacket around him and followed Steve into an apartment building.

“We’re meeting everybody else at the tower in a few days,” Steve said as he led the way up the stairs. “But I thought we could just stay at my place for now.”

“How many apartments do you have?” Bucky mumbled. He rubbed at his face, trying to wake up.

“Just two,” Steve said.

“Two apartments, two cars and a motorcycle,” Bucky said. “You’re livin’ rich.”

Steve sighed. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

Bucky waited while Steve unlocked the door to the apartment, leaning against the wall. He followed Steve inside, glancing around as Steve set his bag on the floor and started turning on the lights.

“So this is your place, huh,” Bucky said. He wandered around the living room, reading the titles of the books stacked neatly on the shelves. “It’s…”

“It’s what?” Steve asked from the kitchen.

“It’s nice,” Bucky said.

Steve laughed. “Glowing praise.”

“No, no,” Bucky said hastily. He went over to the large windows along one wall, quickly cataloguing all the places a sniper could shoot from. “It’s a nice place, Steve. It’s just…”

Bucky turned back around, glancing over the neat furniture and light wood floors. “It’s just kind of impersonal, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve said. He leaned over the kitchen counter and tossed Bucky a new water bottle. He caught it absent-mindedly, still wandering around. He tried to make it look like he wasn’t checking the place for security gaps, but he doubted he was fooling Steve. “I’m not here all that often, and when I am I don’t spend a lot of time on the interior decorating.”

“I know,” Bucky said. “But… what did we used to have on the walls in our old place? Our apartment?”

“Oh,” Steve said. He turned back to the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge. “Uh, we had a few of my drawings in each room. You even got a few of them framed.”

“Why don’t you put any of those up in here, then?”

Steve shrugged, his back still to Bucky. “I dunno. It seems weird to put your own sketches up on your walls. Besides, I don’t really draw that much anymore.”

“Why not?” Bucky said as he casually knelt down and took the dvd player apart.

“Haven’t really had the inspiration, I guess,” Steve said. “Bucky, I check this place every time I’m here. It’s safe, and there aren’t any bugs.”

“Can’t hurt to check again,” Bucky said as he moved onto the tv. Steve sighed and disappeared down the hallway. Bucky heard the shower turn on.

By the time Steve re-emerged with damn hair and fresh clothes on, Bucky had finished his sweep of the entire apartment.

“Okay, come on, let me show you around,” Steve said when Bucky finally finished checking the cupboards in the kitchen. Bucky followed him reluctantly.

“There’s two bedrooms,” Steve said. “You can have whichever one you want. The bathroom’s down here.”

Bucky poked his head into both rooms.

“Can I have this one?” he asked finally. “The other has too many windows.”

“Of course,” Steve said. Bucky wandered into the one that he’d chosen and started searching through the wardrobe. “I’ll give you some of my clothes until we can get you some of your own. They should probably fit you.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. He ran his hands over the seams of the wood.

Steve sighed. “There’s fresh towels in the bathroom if you want to shower.”

“Okay.”

“Feel free to take whatever you want from the kitchen.”

“Okay.”

Steve sighed again. “Bucky. Is there anything I can do to convince you this place is safe?”

“You can let me check it over,” Bucky said.

There was silence for a long moment.

“Fine,” Steve said. “You do whatever you need to do, okay? I’m going to try and get some sleep, but come wake me up if you need anything.”

“I won’t, but thanks.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say something else, but he finally left. Bucky finished searching the room and moved onto the washroom.

He managed to take a shower and change into some of the clothes that Steve had left for him, but he ended up searching the whole apartment again afterwards. Once he’d double and triple-checked the locks on the doors and the windows, Bucky retreated to the room Steve had given him.

Bucky sat down on the bed, looking around. He was still tired, but this room had no windows and it was making it a little hard to breathe. He got up and started pacing around the small, tastefully decorated room, telling himself that there was no logical reason that this room would have no air in it. He figured it probably had something to do with the lack of escape routes if someone came at him through the only door.

The thought of that just made him panic more, and he ended up going out and sitting in the living room again. He sat awkwardly on the couch, keeping his eye on the windows that looked out onto the street below. There was another building directly across the street, and the dozens of blank dark windows made Bucky twitchy. He tried to retreat to the kitchen, but he could still see at least a few possible shots that someone could take from the other building to hit him.

He ended up sitting on the floor in the hall, his back against one of the walls. He stretched his legs out in front of him, his head lolling to the side as he dipped in and out of a restless sleep.

After a few hours of Bucky twitching and shifting around on the hardwood floor, he heard Steve sigh from his room.

“Bucky?”

“What,” Bucky mumbled.

“Are you sitting in the floor in the hall?”

“Yes.”

Steve stumbled out of his room, his eyes half-closed and his hair sticking up. “Why?”

Bucky stared blearily at him. “There’s too many windows in the living room but there’s none in the bedroom.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his face. “Do you want to try my room?”

“Too many windows in there too.”

Steve stared at him for a long moment and then disappeared back into his room. He reappeared after a moment, his comforter thrown over his shoulders and a pillow in his hand.

“What are you doing,” Bucky said tiredly as Steve sat down next to him.

“Sleeping,” Steve said. He laid his pillow down on the floor and shuffled around until he got comfortable, pulling the blanket over him.

“On the hall floor.”

“Yep,” Steve said. His eyes were already closing again.

“Steve,” Bucky groaned. “You don’t have to sleep here.”

“Do you feel safer with me here?”

Bucky scowled and didn’t say anything.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“Well then,” Steve said smugly, still with his eyes closed.

Bucky sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. He stared at the wall across from him, his eyes dry and itchy.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve mumbled, his face half-obscured by his blanket.

“Want to tell me some more shitty stories about me? About what I used to be like?”

Steve sighed and rolled onto his back. “Why do you want to hear more negative things about yourself? I have a lot more stories of you doing good things.”

“Yeah, but every book and website and movie about me has those,” Bucky said. “They make me out to be some kind of saint.”

Steve sighed again. “Okay, fine. Well, you used to do stuff like this a lot.”

“What, keep you awake when you wanted to sleep?”

“No,” Steve said. “Well, yeah, that too. But I meant that you used to burn yourself out like this. Like you’re doing now.”

“I’m not – “

Steve raised his eyebrows, and Bucky stopped talking and waited.

“As I was saying,” Steve said deliberately. “You used to burn yourself out all the time. Especially when we lived together, and we were trying to pay our own rent and groceries and all that stuff. I mean, we were poor but we weren’t destitute or anything. Our apartment was shitty, but at least we weren’t on the streets. We usually had enough for groceries and even some left over for alcohol and my medications. There were a couple months that were bad, though. Way worse than the others. I don’t even remember what happened, exactly, but it was just a bunch of things all going wrong at once. I got sick and was out of work for three weeks, and so of course they fired me. I was still too weak to get another job, not that anyone would have hired me anyway. You already had a day job that was paying pretty well, but then that company went other and you had to scramble to get new ones. It was winter, our bills were high… I dunno, it was a rough time. We didn’t enough money for food _and_ my meds, so you would just pick up the meds and then say you ate at work and weren’t hungry. I mean, I knew you were lying but there wasn’t much I could do about it other than yell at you. Not that you were home much, anyway. You had three jobs and were working them round the clock, just going straight from one to another. There were days where I never even saw you at all. Sometimes you’d rush in, drop off some groceries, take a shower, and then leave again without saying a word. I tried to make you take a break, but you would just ignore me and then leave again. Anyway, one day there was a knock on the front door. I opened it, and there were these two guys standing there with you slumped between them. They dragged you inside and dumped you on the couch, told me to tell you not to bother to come into work again. Apparently you’d passed out at your factory job, nearly got your foot cut off in the process. You slept for a day and a half, woke up, panicked, and were out looking for a new job by that evening. It was frustrating.”

Bucky smiled sleepily. “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, if you remember an instance of me physically trying to stop you from leaving the apartment, that’s when it’s from,” Steve said. “Do you want me to keep talking?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. His eyes drifted closed, but he listened to Steve talk until he finally drifted off.

 

When he opened his eyes again, bright sunlight was flooding all throughout the apartment. Soft noises from the kitchen told him that Steve was making breakfast.

Bucky hauled himself off the floor, wincing as his muscles protested. He stumbled into the kitchen, trying to stretch the spasm out of his neck.

“I made – “ Steve said. “Well, I made a lot of food.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the plates of food covering the kitchen counter. “Do you normally eat this much for breakfast?”

“Honestly? Almost, yes,” Steve said. “But I made a little extra today in case you wanted some.”

Bucky scanned the plates and finally selected a piece of toast. He broke off part of the crust and chewed it slowly, perching on one of the bar stools. He rolled his eyes as Steve slid a glass of orange juice his way, but took it anyway.

“What do you want to do today?” Steve asked. “It’s completely up to you.”

“Um,” Bucky said. He stared at Steve. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said quickly. “Just think about it.”

“Don’t you have stuff to do?” Bucky asked as he pulled off another piece of toast. “People to see?”

“Nope,” Steve said. He started in on his omelet. “And I’m not just saying that so you don’t feel pressed. I genuinely don’t have anything to do.”

Bucky frowned. “What do you do on a normal day? When you’re not obsessively hunting me down.”

Steve shrugged. “Well, normally I live in DC. I’m only here occasionally.”

“Fine. What’s a normal day in DC like?”

“Well,” Steve said slowly. “I go running. For a few hours. Sometimes I go with Sam, and we’ll go get breakfast or a coffee afterwards.”

“And then?”

“And then…” Steve said. “I come home. I shower. Have lunch. Um… sometimes I go for a walk. I read a lot. There’s a hell of a lot of stuff on the internet.”

Bucky stared at him. “Okay. That still leaves a ton of hours in the day.”

Steve shrugged. “I watch a movie at night, usually. Then I just… go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Bucky said after a long moment. “That’s… uh, nice.”

Steve groaned. “I know, I know. I’m pathetic, I’m not doing anything with life. I mean, I’m healthy now, I’m strong enough to help people but I’m just sitting at home reading books and watching movies when I should be out being productive – “

“Woah,” Bucky said, staring at him. “Slow down, Negative Nancy. I wasn’t critizing your lifestyle choices.”

“But – “

“And you’re under no obligation to go out and do hero shit. You’ve done your time, Steve.”

“I haven’t – “

“Anyway,” Bucky interrupted. “I’ve decided what I want to do today.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, clearly aware that he was deflecting the conversation. “Okay, what?”

“I don’t want to do anything,” Bucky announced. “I want to stay here in your apartment and not do anything of any importance.”

Steve stared. “Uh, okay. If that’s what you want.”

 

They ended up watching three (terrible) movies, playing four games of cards, and making two more meals (which Bucky barely ate and Steve finished off). They ended up on Steve’s bed, making out without any of the rush that they’d had the last time. Everything was going fine up until Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s back, and his fingers pushed into the space between one of the notches on Bucky’s spine.

Bucky wrenched himself away from Steve and flipped backward, ending with his back pressed against the wall of the room.

Steve stared at him, his eyes wide. “Bucky?”

Bucky shook his head, his breaths already coming in quick gasps.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said desperately. “What did I – “

“You didn’t do anything,” Bucky managed to say. “Just… just give me a minute.”

“Okay,” Steve said hesitantly. Bucky’s vision started fading in and out as his breaths came more quickly.

Bucky finally got his breathing under control. His vision cleared, and he could finally see Steve anxiously kneeling in front of him.

“You okay?” Steve asked. Worry was written all over his face.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said roughly. “Can we… can we go back to the hall?

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said. Bucky made his way out of the room and into the hall, sinking onto the floor where they’d slept the night before.

Steve sat across from him, his face serious. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t…”, Bucky said slowly. “I don’t know, really.”

“What did I do?” Steve asked again. “You just…”

“I freaked out, I know,” Bucky said. “It’s nothing you did. It’s something about my back, about having someone else touch my back like that. I’m not sure why, I don’t remember. It just… it feels horrible, it makes me feel sick.”

“Okay,” Steve said hastily. “That’s okay. I’ll be careful, I won’t touch you there again.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bucky said. He tugged his shirt over his head, twisting around so that Steve could see his back. “Do it again?”

“What?” Steve said.

“Come on,” Bucky said impatiently. “Just do what you did before.”

“Bucky, no,” Steve said. “You just said that having me touch your back made you uncomfortable!”

“I know,” Bucky groaned. “And this’ll fix that.”

“No!” Steve said indignantly. “I’m not going to do anything that’ll upset you.”

“Ugh,” Bucky said. “Come on, Steve. All you’re doing is putting your hand on my spine! I won’t get over it if you don’t.”

Steve reached out and pulled at Bucky’s shoulder, so that he had to twist around to look at him. “Bucky. No. Just give it time – “

“Time won’t matter,” Bucky said impatiently. “If I don’t work at it, it’ll keep happening. Do you know how long it took me to be able to say own name? Or to eat whatever and whenever I wanted? Or to wash my own hair? Jesus, I still can’t take a shower with hot water because I feel sick and weird whenever I do.”

“Bucky,” Steve said desperately. “No. I want to help you, I really do, but… I can’t sit here and hurt you like that.”

Bucky scowled at him and scrambled up from the floor, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on. He stormed into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards even though he wasn’t hungry at all.

Steve followed him with a sigh. “Bucky.”

“What.”

Steve rested his elbows on the kitchen counter, his face calm.

Bucky finally sighed, turning back around to look at him. “What am I supposed to say, Steve? I can’t help that I’m a neurotic mess. I’m trying not to be.”

“You aren’t,” Steve said, frowning slightly. “And you don’t have to ‘try’ to be anything, Buck. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him for a moment and then slumped back against the counter. He rubbed at his face. “When are we going to Stark’s tower.”

“Day after tomorrow. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Bucky peaked out from between his fingers. “No, no, I’ll go. You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah.”

 

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Bucky ended up falling asleep on the floor in the hallway again, Steve pressed up against him.

Of course, because Bucky apparently couldn’t go more than a few days without something going horribly wrong, he woke up the next morning not knowing where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you follow me here but will you follow me [here](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh, this took a turn. TW for suicide attempt and suicidal thoughts. So. Sorry.

The surface underneath him was hard. A floor. Hardwood. His back was against a wall. Paint.

Bucky snapped his eyes open, not moving any other part of his body as he took in his surroundings. He was in a house. No, wait, an apartment. He was on the floor in the hallway. Why was he there? He wasn’t injured, as far as he could tell. Or tied up.

Someone was in the kitchen. Bucky couldn’t see it from here, but someone was humming quietly and rummaging through what sounded like a cupboard.

Steve. Yes, that was Steve humming. Steve was here. That was good. Steve wouldn’t be humming and wandering around a kitchen if they were in a place that wasn’t safe.

But still.

Better safe than sorry.

Bucky scrambled up and threw himself down the hallway. His back slammed into the wall at the end, and he pressed himself into the corner. He had his gun in one hand and a knife in the other, both of them ready to go.

Steve skidded around the corner. His eyes widened when he saw the gun trained at his face.

“Bucky,” Steve said cautiously. He slowly raised his hands. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

Bucky tried to answer, but his entire body was so tense that even breathing was becoming difficult.

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky managed to say through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” Steve said, relief evident on his face. “That’s good. Do you know where we are?”

Bucky forced himself to take a breath in. “No.”

“That’s okay,” Steve said quickly. “We’re in my apartment. In New York. It’s safe here.”

Bucky scowled. “No, it’s not.”

“Well, okay,” Steve allowed. “But it’s as safe as it’ll ever be. I’ve been here all night with you. There’s no one in here with us.”

Bucky tried to loosen his grip on his knife, but the thought of doing so filled him with terror. “How did I get here?”

“We drove,” Steve calmly. “We drove up from Florida.”

Now that Steve mentioned it, he did remember the car ride. He’d been in the passenger’s seat. He’d slept most of the way. It had been warm, and he’d eaten muffins.

“What am I doing here?”

“You’re staying here with me for a few days,” Steve said. “Then we’re going to Stark Tower to meet with some people that I know.”

“Why?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Bucky cut him off.

“No, wait,” Bucky said hurriedly. “Let… let me do it.”

Steve stayed quiet, and Bucky desperately sorted through the tumult in his head for the answer.

“Kristoffson,” he said finally. “We’re going after Kristoffson.”

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“Okay,” Bucky said after another long pause. “Okay. I’m… just give me a few minutes.”

“All right,” Steve said warily. Probably because there was still a gun pointed at his face.

Bucky irritably motioned for him to leave. “Don’t just stand there staring at me. Go back to what you were doing.”

Steve hesitated. “Are you…”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped. “This happens sometimes. Byproduct of too many years of shock therapy.”

Steve was visibly upset, but he backed away and disappeared around the corner again. Bucky had a feeling that he was just standing anxiously in the kitchen, but it was better than standing there staring at him.

Bucky let himself slide down the wall, so that he was sitting on the floor with his knees folded up. The events of the last few days started to come back to him in bits and pieces, fitting together like a haphazard jigsaw puzzle.

His head gently hit the wall as he stared into space. He was jittery and angry and, most of all, frustrated. He was furious again, at everything and at nothing. He wanted to tear this entire building apart and kill everyone in it, but that thought also filled him with terror and self-loathing. No, he wanted to kill the people who had done this to him. He wanted to look them in the eyes and watch the fear that he’d felt for long become reflected on their faces. He wanted them to realize what they’d done. What they’d created. What they’d taken from him. But no, oh no, he couldn’t do that, because they were all already fucking dead. He couldn’t kill someone who was already dead, for obvious reasons. He could go after their relatives, their friends, but that wouldn’t make him feel better. It wasn’t their fault that he was like this. No, it was the sole fault of each of those individuals alone. And really, even killing those responsible didn’t make him feel any better. It didn’t feel like anything. There was a brief moment of satisfaction, the triumph of revenge, and then just the sickening feeling of having taken another life. Maybe the world was better for having them gone, but that didn’t mean Bucky didn’t enjoy being the one to do it. Despite what some of his fellow soldiers had joked about during the war, Bucky did not enjoy killing. He was good at it, yes. Brutally good. Hell, he’d been good at it from the moment he’d picked up his first gun. But he’d never liked it. He hadn’t asked for the special sniper training he’d received after his superiors had seen his natural talent with a rifle. He’d done it, and he’d used that training to take countless lives during the war. And then, after the war, well, that had been a whole different story. His ability to murder and destroy and terrify hadn’t been born out of his desire to do so. He remembered what they’d done to him to make him follow their commands. He knew that he hadn’t been killing out of his own free will, or his own desire. He knew that, although Steve seemed to believe he still didn’t. What Steve didn’t understand was that it didn’t _matter._ He’d still done it. He’d still killed and slaughtered and changed history in a probably unprecedented way. And fucking hell, he didn’t want to do it again. To be clear, he had no plans on letting Hydra use him that way again. Or anyone, for that matter. But inevitably, it would happen, he would kill again whether by choice or by accident –

“Bucky?”

Bucky blinked. Steve was standing in front of him again.

“You’ve… you’ve been sitting there for a few hours now,” Steve said hesitantly. He glanced at the gun that was still in Bucky’s hand.

“Is that a problem?” Bucky muttered.

“No,” Steve said quickly. “Just… just let me know if I can help, okay?”

Bucky didn’t reply, and Steve drifted reluctantly out of sight again.

Bucky groaned. Steve was upset, now, and Bucky was tired. He craved rest, he _needed_ it, but now he was faced with the reality of it and it was awful. He had no idea how to rest. He didn’t know how to sit around all day, watching tv and doing idle chores. He wasn’t built for that.

Bucky had no idea how to relax. For almost a century, he’d been forced to constantly move, to work. He was good at that, good at driving himself for as long as he needed to go for. But now? Now he was faced with what he’d craved for so long, and it was terrifying. His body constantly thrummed with energy and rage and hatred, and now there was no outlet. No driving force behind his actions. What was he supposed to do with all this hatred? All this anger? He could take it out on Steve, he supposed, but that wasn’t really fair. Most of Steve’s life wasn’t fair already. He didn’t need Bucky’s rage and pain added on top of all of that. Jesus, Bucky never should have been here in the first place. He’d known that he wouldn’t be any good when his missions were finished. Bucky Barnes was good at one thing and that was killing, and now there was no one left to kill and no reason for Bucky to be here.

Bucky put the gun to his own temple and clicked the safety off.

Steve skidded around the corner so quickly that Bucky was surprised he didn’t hit the wall.

“What are you doing?” Steve said frantically. Bucky scowled.

“What does it look like,” Bucky muttered.

“Don’t, please don’t,” Steve said. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. “Just go… just go take a walk or something, Steve. Or I will. That’ll be better.”

Steve was breathing too quickly now, his face chalk-white. “Bucky, no, no. Stop, you, you said… you said you’d help us, you’d said you come with me tomorrow – “

“STOP,” Bucky suddenly shouted. His hand was so tight on the handle of his gun that it was starting to tremble. “Stop doing this to me, Steve. Just let me… just let me do this.”

“No,” Steve said desperately. “Bucky, please, don’t leave me again, don’t leave me alone again – “

Bucky groaned. “Steve – “

“No,” Steve said. “No, I don’t care if it’s selfish of me, I don’t want to lose you again, I _can’t_ lose you again. What can I do, please, just tell me how I can help – “

“Steve,” Bucky said, almost as desperately. “I’m so tired, I just…”

“That’s okay, that’s okay, you can rest, Buck, you don’t to do any of that anymore – “

“You…” Bucky said nearly stuttering in his frustration. “You’re acting like you don’t get it, Steve! And I know you do! There isn’t any rest, not for me and not for you either. This isn’t ever going to stop, and we’ve never going to get out.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is,” Bucky said firmly. “I can’t… I can’t turn this off, Steve. I know it isn’t my fault that I’m like this, but that doesn’t change the fact that I _am_ , and I can’t fix that and it’s not going to change. I’m never going to be normal, I’m never going to be just an average person again – “

“That’s okay,” Steve said frantically. He was still hovering at the end of the hallway, holding onto the walls like it would stop it from rushing forward and grabbing the gun from Bucky. “That’s okay, I don’t care about that, it’s okay.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” Bucky said, his rage already starting to fade back into dully apathy. “It’ll be easier for you if I – “

“NO,” Steve shouted. The plaster of the wall cracked under his hand. “It wouldn’t! It would be awful, it would be the worst thing, the absolute worst thing that’s ever happened to me, I… I already had to watch you die once and I thought… I thought that was the worst but this would be, this would be more than that, I…”

Bucky stared at him with alarm. He was now genuinely worried that Steve was going to pass out from breathing too quickly.

He still… he still wanted to do it, he could pull the trigger and it would all be over and he wouldn’t have to be angry anymore, but… well, his weakness had always been Steve Rogers, and apparently always would be. Or maybe it was his strength. Bucky didn’t know.

Either way, he clicked the safety back onto the gun and set it onto the floor beside him.

Steve dropped to his knees in the floor, his hand still braced on the wall. He stared at Bucky, his eyes wide and his breath still coming too quickly.

“Steve,” Bucky said after another few long moments. Steve slumped against the wall, finally sitting down with his back braced against it.

When Steve still didn’t reply, Bucky finally got up and cautiously made his way down the hall. He sat down carefully next to him.

“Steve?” he asked again. Steve was trembling, his eyes glassed over and his face still pale. “I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head slowly, still not looking at him. Bucky sat there uncomfortably. He genuinely had no idea what to do. He hadn’t exactly been trained for a situation like this.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said again.

Steve didn’t turn to look at him, but he reached out and grabbed Bucky’s right arm. Steve closed his hand around Bucky’s forearm, tighter than was really comfortable.

Bucky waited, but Steve didn’t say anything. They sat like that for a long while, until Steve’s breathing finally slowed to normal and his grip on Bucky’s arm loosened.

Steve finally let go of Bucky’s arm, still not looking at him.

“I’ll call and cancel for tomorrow,” Steve said finally. His voice was hoarse.

“No,” Bucky said quickly. “Why would you do that?”

Steve finally turned to look at him, his eyes startlingly blue in his pale face. “You just put a gun to your own head, Buck.”

“So?” Bucky said. “I put it down. This doesn’t mean I can’t help you with the mission tomorrow.”

Steve abruptly looked more tired than any human had any right to look. “Bucky…”

Bucky frowned and waited.

“You don’t have any regard for your own life, do you,” Steve said finally. It wasn’t a question.

Bucky shrugged. “Got that burned out of me a long time ago, Stevie.”

Steve let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“But that won’t compromise the mission,” Bucky said hurriedly. “I know how to take care of myself. I’m not going to get myself shot. The priority is always to accomplish the mission, and I can’t do that if I bleed out before it’s finished.”

Steve still had his eyes closed, but tears were starting to leak out from under his eyelids anyway.

“Please,” Bucky said. “I need something to do. I need something to focus on. I can’t just… sit. I don’t know how.”

Steve didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. His voice was still hoarse and quiet. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

Anger flared through Bucky again. “About what?”

Steve shrugged listlessly. “About everything. About everything that’s happened to you.”

Bucky scowled and wrenched his arm away. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“I know,” Steve said. He slowly opened his eyes again, his vision unfocused. “But I… I’m never going to… not be sorry about it.”

“Well,” Bucky said slowly. “You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be sorry about it.”

“I can’t help that,” Steve said. He blinked slowly.

“Steve,” Bucky said sharply. “Look at me.”

Steve finally turned his vacant gaze to Bucky.

“I’ve told you this before,” Bucky said firmly. “And I’m going to say it again, because you don’t seem to get it. All the shit that’s happened? To both you and me? It’s not your fault. I made my choices, you made yours, and somehow we ended up here. Stop trying to take the blame for what both of us have done. Don’t take the few choices I’ve had in life away from me.”

Steve closed his eyes again, but he nodded slowly.

“And,” Bucky added. “All of this, it’s… I can see what it’s doing to you, Steve. I don’t think… well, I don’t know if anyone who you know now can see it. But I remember what you were like before all of this. Well, some of it. But carrying all of this guilt is killing you. You gotta let it go, Stevie.”

“I can’t,” Steve said dully.

“You have to try,” Bucky said. “It’s over, Steve. All of that shit that happened? It’s over. It’s done. No use dragging it back up now.”

Steve finally focused on him. “You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who tried to shoot himself a few minutes ago.”

“Nah,” Bucky said. He propped his head on his hand. “If I’d ‘tried’ to shoot myself I’d be dead. I chose not to.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky laughed sharply. It wasn’t a nice sound. “None of this is easy, Steve. Doing anything apart from completing missions is hard. Eating is hard for me, unless it’s necessary to finish the mission. Showering? Changing clothes? Sleeping? All of it’s hard.”

Steve looked sad again, but at least his eyes were a little more focused now. “You… you didn’t tell me that.”

Bucky shrugged. “You didn’t need to know. I’m not trying to make you feel bad for me again.”

“I know,” Steve said quickly. “I know you’re not. I just… I don’t know how you do it, Bucky. I don’t know how you’re still so… I dunno. Reasonable, I guess. I don’t know how you get up every day and do all this.”

Bucky shrugged again. “And I didn’t understand how you got up every day and went to work when you were as sick, before the serum.”

“Didn’t have a choice.”

“You did have a choice,” Bucky said. “You could have given up, but you didn’t. And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Steve mumbled. He pushed himself upright, his face finally starting to return to its normal colour.

“So,” Bucky said. “Would it make you feel better if I let you make us both lunch?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Would you actually eat it?”

“Um,” Bucky said. “Yes. Most of it. Maybe half.”

Steve smiled a little. “Okay, fine. But I’m going to hold you to that.”

Bucky sighed and scrambled to his feet. He held his hand out to help Steve up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't fun. My bad. Next time will be more fun I promise


	24. Chapter 24

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Bucky said impatiently. “It’s fine.”

He flinched as another car honked.

Steve sighed. “I can get Tony to send a car. It’ll be soundproofed.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky repeated. He sank lower into the passenger seat of Steve’s car. “We’re already halfway there.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been panicking since we left the apartment.”

“I’m not – I’m not _panicking,”_ Bucky insisted. “There’s just… there’s just so much…”

“We’re not in any danger,” Steve said calmly. Bucky snorted. “Okay, fine. To my knowledge, we are not under any immediate threats. You’ve already checked several times, no one is following us.”

“They could be waiting for us,” Bucky mumbled. His heartbeat was too rapid and his muscles continued to twitch.

“Bucky,” Steve said patiently. “We’re stuck in traffic. We’re not being ambushed.”

Bucky let his head fall back against the seat. “I can’t turn it off, Steve. I feel like we’re about to get shot.”

“This car is bulletproof. We’d be fine.”

Bucky turned to stare at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” Steve said casually. “All my cars are.”

Bucky tried another weak laugh. “’All your cars.’”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it sounds,” Steve said. “But seriously, Bucky. We’re going to be okay.”

“Ugh,” Bucky muttered. He fiddled with the knife in his hands.

“Bucky, you don’t – “

“Steve, I swear to god, if you tell me that I don’t have to do this _one more time_ –“

“Okay, okay!”

 

They finally, _finally_ pulled into Stark Tower’s parking garage. It was quiet and empty except for the rows of expensive cars. Bucky finally started breathing normally again.

“Normally we can just go through that door there,” Steve said apologetically. He gestured to a small door set into one concrete wall. “But, uh, Tony restricted my access after…”

“After you broke me out?” Bucky offered.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a wince. “So now we have to go through the front lobby.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky said. He felt much better now that they weren’t out on a crowded New York street. “Are they going to let me inside?”

“Of course,” Steve said. Bucky followed him through another large door, which led out into a long hallway. “They know you’re coming.”

The door at the end of that hallway opened into the bright glass lobby. Bucky followed Steve through the door, and immediately an alarm went off.

“Any chance there’s a metal detector?” Bucky said dryly.

Steve groaned. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.”

A woman who had been sitting at the front desk jumped up and hurried over to them. According to the large shiny nametag on her neat blazer, her name was Helen.

“Excuse me,” she said politely. “I’m going to have to ask you to remove any metal objects that you have with you.”

Steve stared at Bucky desperately, apology written all over his face. Bucky kind of wanted to laugh.

“I can’t,” he said to Helen, as politely as he could.

Helen frowned. “Why not?”

Bucky held out his hand. He was wearing a pair of Steve’s jeans and one of Steve’s old jackets, but he hadn’t bothered to cover his left hand. “It’s attached to me.”

“Oh,” Helen said, her forehead creasing. Bucky doubted she had encountered this situation before. “Um. Could you… could you remove your hand?”

“Uh,” Bucky said. “No. It’s… my entire arm.”

“Could you,” Helen said, her voice strained. “Remove your arm?”

For some reason, this struck Bucky as absurdly funny. Maybe it had something to do with the buildup of tension over the last few days, but he started to laugh.

“No,” he said through his laughter. “I’ll die.”

“Oh,” Helen said. “Please don’t do that then.”

Steve had been staring at the two of them with a mixture of horror and amusement. Now, he too started to laugh.

Helen frowned. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

Steve looked over at Bucky, and both of them just laughed harder.

Helen scowled and pulled a phone out of her pocket. She started typing on it, ignoring Steve and Bucky as they tried to regain their composure.

“Mr. Stark has authorized your entrance,” she said stiffly. “Please proceed to that elevator there.”

“Thank you,” Steve gasped out. There were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Helen turned on her heel and walked away. Bucky helplessly followed Steve to the elevator.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said to Bucky once the elevator doors had closed behind them. He was still wiping the tears from his eyes. “They shouldn’t have asked you that.”

Bucky burst out laughing again.

“It’s not even that funny,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “I think I’m just tired?”

“I am too,” Steve said.

They got themselves together just as the elevator doors slid smoothly open again. Bucky followed Steve down another long hallway, this one lined with glass walls looking into various conference rooms.

Steve took a right at the end of the hallway and opened another non-descript door. Bucky followed him inside, any residual hints of humour slipping off his face out of habit.

Everyone in the room turned to stare at them as they entered. Bucky let his eyes unfocus slightly so that he could look at them all at once without appearing to do so.

“Sorry we’re late,” Steve said calmly. “Traffic.”

Steve sat down in one of the chairs set around a large conference table. Bucky took the one next to him, ignoring the stares.

“Hey, Nat,” Steve said with a smile. Romanov was sitting next to him, her eyes fixed on Bucky. “Long time, no see.”

“Hi, Steve,” she said. She leaned over to give him a brief hug, although her eyes never left Bucky’s face. Barton was sitting next to her, his head propped on his hand. He glanced at Bucky and then looked away again, clearly not as interested.

“Steve,” Sam Wilson whispered from his seat next to Barton. “Lunch after?”

Steve smiled and nodded. Wilson turned to look at Bucky again, but his stare was less venom-filled than some of the others.

A large blond man that Bucky only vaguely recognized as Thor was in the seat next to him. The man didn’t seem all that bothered by Bucky’s presence.

Maria Hill sat next to Thor. She was watching Bucky with narrowed eyes, her hands under the table. Bucky didn’t doubt that she was holding weapons primed and ready to go.

Banner was next. He was rather small and unassuming in person. If Bucky hadn’t read about him, he wouldn’t have regarded him as much of a threat at all. As it stood, he was the one that Bucky was most wary of. Banner pretended to not be studying Bucky, but his eyes kept clearly flicking back to look at him.

Pepper Potts sat across the table from Banner. She was pretending to read something on a tablet, but she too kept sneaking glances at Bucky.

Tony Stark was standing at the head of the table, working on some holographic thing in front of him. He was glaring at Bucky. Bucky didn’t really blame him, after the whole assassination thing.

Bucky absent-mindedly wondered how he must appear to them. He’d glanced in the mirror that morning before he and Steve left, and he knew what he looked like. He was far too thin, and his hair was cut short but messily so. Steve’s clothes fit him strangely, too loose in places and too tight in others. He could feel that his face had slipped back into its blank mask, the one that Bucky used when he was focusing on many other things. His eyes were vacant, and Bucky had no doubt that he looked more like a wax statue than a person. He could sit utterly still if he needed to, and he’d automatically started doing that now. He didn’t like mission briefings.

“Anyway, now that everybody’s here,” Stark said. He launched into a detailed description of Kristoffson’s various crimes. Bucky had heard it all before, and had been instrumental in carrying out some of said crimes. He tuned it out.

The blond man sitting next to Bucky was eating doughnuts out of a large cardboard box. To Bucky’s surprise, he picked up the box and held it out to Bucky in a clear gesture of good will.

Bucky stared at him for a moment. His first instinct was to refuse any food offered to him, but he had a basic idea of politeness and he knew what that response would indicate. So, Bucky reached forward with his right hand and took a plain-looking doughnut from the box. He nodded to the man, whose face split into a huge smile.

Bucky carefully ripped the doughnut in half, passing the other half to Steve automatically. Steve took it from him, his eyes focused on the holographic display that Stark had now sent to the middle of the table.

Bucky ate his doughnut. It was actually surprisingly good. He decided that he liked doughnuts.

 Stark talked for a long time. Steve glanced over at one point, clearly as bored as Bucky was. He frowned slightly, probably worried by the dull blank look on Bucky’s face. Bucky looked at him and rolled his eyes slightly. Steve grinned and turned back to Stark.

Stark finally moved on to the actual structure of Kristoffson’s land.

“We think this is what the basement looks like,” Stark said. The image suspended above the table zoomed in, revealing a complex floorplan. “But, considering none of us have been here except for a certain creepy assassin, we don’t know that for sure.”

“Tony,” Steve said sharply. Bucky didn’t mind the nickname. He was being creepy. He also just didn’t care enough to mind it.

Stark also looked annoyed. “What do you expect me to say, Cap? He tried to kill me. For all I know, he still wants to kill me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, his shoulders starting to tense. “I explained it to you. I don’t see why we have to go over this again – “

Bucky was ignoring the argument in favour of studying the floorplans. He leaned forward, reaching out with his right hand and gesturing the image forward. It gently moved to rest in front of him. Bucky used both hands to manipulate it, easily stretching and twisting the diagrams to add the proper rooms and corridors.

He flicked his wrist and send the image back to the middle of the table when he was done. He sat back in his chair, ignoring the way the room had fallen silent. Everyone was staring at him again.

“You’re sure this is right?” Hill asked him. She at least looked him directly in the eyes. He appreciated it, and nodded to her once.

“We’ll need to try a difference entrance,” Hill said, turning back to the rest of the table. “The original plan didn’t take into account the second lower level.”

They all went back to planning. Bucky went back to staring out the window and occasionally nudging Steve’s foot under the table.

 

Everything was going fine. Bucky was still staring out the window, looking at the truly incredible view, when he heard a familiar buzzing noise.

If Bucky hadn’t had his flinching reflexes burned out of him a long time ago, he would have jumped backward and probably brought the entire table with him. As it stood, his muscles all tensed up immediately.

Steve seemed to sense it. He turned to look at him, a frown creasing his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. Bucky turned away from him to stare at the blank white wall only a few feet away from Bucky’s chair.

Stark and Romanov had been talking over each other, but they fell silent as Bucky got to his feet. Everyone watched as Bucky walked straight over to the wall and slammed his left hand through the plaster.

Bucky heard the collective sound of people jumping to their feet and pulling their weapons out.

“Bucky?” Steve said.

Bucky grabbed a handful of wires from the machine inside the wall and pulled them out. The machine stopped working immediately, the buzzing noise dying down to nothing.

Bucky walked over to where Stark, Banner, and Hill were all standing. None of them met his eyes as he opened his hand and let the pieces of machinery fall onto the table below. Then, he turned and walked back to his seat. He sat back down, resuming his staring out the window.

“What,” Steve said slowly. “Is that.”

Romanov was frowning, her arms crossed over her chest. Wilson looked concerned, and Barton actually looked a little angry.

“It’s…” Stark said helplessly. He looked at Banner.

“We just needed to take a few quick scans,” Banner said. “We had to make sure that he didn’t have any receiving or transmitting equipment on him – “

Steve was on his feet now, his arms crossed. He looked every bit his height. “So you decided to take scans of him without asking permission?”

“Cap, I know how this sounds,” Tony said hastily. “But we needed to be sure about this, and we knew that you’d never let us do it – “

“For good reason!” Steve shouted. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Tony snapped back. “That this guy you brought with you is an assassin who tried to kill me, and now you want to bring him along with us on this mission! I’m just trying to keep everybody safe - ”

Bucky wanted to point out that he hadn’t _tried_ to kill Tony, he’d originally planned to kill Tony and then he’d changed his mind. If he’d tried to kill Tony, Tony would be dead. He figured this wasn’t the best time to point that out.

“We already discussed that!” Steve shouted. “Not to mention that he just saved all our lives by changing those floorplans. We would’ve gone in through the first floor and we wouldn’t even have _made_ it to the second – “

“And how does he know that? Oh, right, because he worked for Kristoffson,” Tony yelled. Bucky stared out the window and wondered if it would be rude to ask Thor for another doughnut.

“You know what?” Steve said finally. “I’m done here. Just tell me the plans when we’re on our way.”

He turned and stormed out. Bucky got up and followed him, letting the door slam shut behind them with a satisfying sound.

“I am so sorry,” Steve said as they walked. Bucky almost had to jog to keep up. “I am so, so sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“They shouldn’t have done that,” Steve said. His voice was still laced with anger. “They had no right to do that without your permission.”

“Well, I broke their stealthy little machine, so.”

The elevator doors slide open, and Steve storms in. “How are you so calm about this?”

Bucky shrugged again. “They think I’m still working for Hydra. Of course they’d want to check to see if I’m being monitored.”

“For god’s sake,” Steve mumbled. He ran his hands over his face. “They should have _asked.”_

“Yeah,” Bucky said at the elevator descended through the floors. “But Steve, it’s okay. No harm, no foul.”

“It’s not,” Steve said desperately.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky amended. “It’s not okay, but it is what it is. They don’t know me, Steve. All they see is the assassin who wanted to kill Stark.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped as the elevator doors opened. “It’s still not okay.”

“Most things aren’t,” Bucky said with a shrug.

They were only halfway through the lobby when Wilson burst through another one of the doors.

“Steve!” he called. Steve turned around, still frowning.

“Hey,” Sam said breathlessly as he caught up to them. “We still on for lunch?”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Uh, yeah. Sure, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sam said hurriedly. “I get it. Okay, any preference for where we go?”

Steve looked over at Bucky. Bucky stared back.

“It’s up to you, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky looked out the window at the crowded street beyond and winced. “What’s closest?”

“There’s a little Italian place less than half a block away,” Sam offered.

Bucky nodded, and Steve smiled with relief.

Sam and Steve chatted on the way there. Bucky walked behind them, twitching anytime somebody got too close and frantically scanning the crowd for threats. He fucking hated big cities.

They finally reached the restaurant. It was calm and cool inside, and they were got a booth against the back wall. Bucky slumped down against the seat with relief.

“What are you going to get?” Steve asked him as he and Sam opened their menus.

“Nothing,” Bucky said. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” Sam asked. He was making a definite effort to actually talk to Bucky like a person, and Bucky appreciated it. “The pasta is really good.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I just ate.”

Steve frowned. “You ate half a doughnut.”

“That’s half a doughnut more than I usually eat.”

Steve rolled his eyes, the tension from earlier finally starting to leave his shoulders. “You need more than half a doughnut. Are you sure you don’t just want a salad or something?”

Bucky just shook his head. The problem was not with the type of food, it was with the unknown ingredients and unknown people making it somewhere that Bucky couldn’t see. He refused to even drink the water sitting in next glasses on the table.

“I’ll eat when we get home,” he said instead.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “A whole plate of something?”

“Half a plate.”

“A full one.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll _try_ and eat an entire plate.”

“Fine,” Steve said with a smug smile. Bucky rolled his eyes.

Sam watched them with amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor helen


	25. Chapter 25

Bucky was having a great time.

Steve, predictably, was not. That was pretty much par for the course for Steve, though.

He had ranted about the whole ‘Stark and Banner scanning Bucky without his permission thing’ all the way home. He continued ranting and apologizing all the way through dinner, barely taking a moment to praise Bucky for actually eating an entire plate of spaghetti. He only stopped ranting when Bucky grabbed his shirt and hauled him into the bedroom, finally giving him something else to do with his mouth.

They were supposed to head back to Stark tower the next day, to get ready to leave for the mission. Steve got a phone call that morning, though, and went out onto the balcony to yell at whoever was on the other end of the line. Probably Stark. Bucky ignored it and continued watching the reality show that he’d started marathoning the night before.

Steve finally came back in, looking slightly mollified but still angry.

“We have to go a little early,” Steve said. “Tony has decided to make it up to you by letting you raid his weapons storage.”

Bucky looked up and grinned. Steve sighed.

 

Two hours later, Bucky was happily running around in a giant weapons storage room. He’d strapped pretty much every holster he could find to his body, and was busily loading them up with various guns, knives, and any other weapon he could get his hands on.

“Are you sure you’re going to need all that?” Steve asked. He was leaning against the wall, looking on with amusement as Bucky strapped another knife to his thigh.

“Not all of us exclusively use a single gun and a shield, Steve,” Bucky said. He gleefully grabbed another gun from the shelf. Steve rolled his eyes.

 

Stark’s jet was huge. Well, if you could even call it a jet. It was some sort of helicopter/plane hybrid, and was seamless attached to Stark tower. The back of the jet opened up onto one of the floors of the tower, which made it easy to load both equipment and people. Steve was still frowning as they made their way through the tower and onto the jet, but Bucky was too busy fiddling with his new guns to be bothered.

The jet had a large bay at the back of the plane. It seemed to be mostly made for storage. The plane then opened up into a sitting area, with groups of couches and tables spread about. Further past that was the cockpit and various other mysterious closed-off rooms. There were even washrooms complete with showers alongside of the storage bay.

Bucky automatically sat down in the storage bay. He usually just sat with the rest of the equipment on missions, and it was just habit.

“You don’t have to sit here,” Steve said as the doors started to close behind them. “You can come sit with everyone else.”

He gestured towards where the rest of the team were sitting. They were spread out over the various couches, all chatting to one another.

Bucky made a face. “Nah, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” Steve said.

“Yes.”

Steve started to sit down next to him.

“No, no,” Bucky said. He waved his hand at him. “You don’t have to sit on the floor with me, Steve. Go talk to your friends.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t want to just leave you here alone.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said impatiently. He was unstrapping all of his new weapons and setting them out around him. “You’re the one who still looks stressed and angry. I’m having fun.”

Steve smiled a little, some of the tension finally draining out of his face. “Do you even know what all of those do?”

“Nope,” Bucky said cheerfully. He set out some strange cylinders and containers. “No idea.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure it’s a good idea to bring them?”

“You’re one to talk,” Bucky said. “Remember that time in Denmark?”

Steve laughed. “I forgot about that!”

Behind him, Barton, Romanov, Stark, Banner, and Hill all turned to stare.

“I definitely remember telling you not to touch those guns that we found,” Bucky said.

Steve shrugged. “They were useful!”

“Yeah, once you figured out how to use them without blowing your eardrums out.”

“It healed pretty quickly!” Steve protested. Bucky gave him a look.

“All right, all right,” Steve said. He got back to his feet, shaking his head. “I’ll leave you to your fun. You know you can come talk to us if you want to though, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said impatiently. He picked up one of his new knives and flipped it around his fingers. Steve shook his head and walked away.

 

The trip over to Norway was fairly long, but Bucky didn’t mind. He sat with his new toys and occasionally ate the food that Steve brought over to him.

Bucky was examining the mechanism of one of his new guns when he heard footsteps approach him. Bucky looked up to see Barton standing in front of him.

“Hi,” he said. He held his hand out to Bucky. “Clint Barton.”

Bucky didn’t get up, but he reached out and shook Barton’s hand. “Barnes.”

Barton flopped down next to him on the floor. Bucky appreciated that he didn’t get too close to Bucky’s neat piles of weapons.

“I thought I’d come over and say hi,” Barton said. “I usually like to know the people I’m going to be working with.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to chatting with people who weren’t Steve. He finally settled for just nodding.

“About what happened yesterday…” Barton said. “The rest of us didn’t know about it. What they were doing. We would have stopped them, had we known.”

Bucky didn’t want to say that it was okay, because it wasn’t. But he also wasn’t particularly bothered by it, so he didn’t want to make a big deal about it either. He just shrugged.

“Well, anyway,” Barton said. “We heard you make Cap laugh over here a few minutes ago. That’s pretty impressive.”

Bucky finally looked up from the gun he was working on. “Why?”

Barton looked surprised at hearing him speak. “I dunno. We just don’t hear him laugh very often. Or smile. Or even grin.”

Bucky looked over to where Steve was sitting with some of the others. Steve was watching him with a worried frown, but he smiled and waved when Bucky looked over at him.

Bucky turned back to Barton. “See? Easy.”

Barton laughed, an incredulous smile spreading across his face. “You know, you’re a little more snarky than I thought you’d be.”

Bucky shrugged again.

“I can’t believe Stark let you take all these,” Barton mused. He propped his head in his hands, staring wistfully at Bucky’s pile of weapons. “He never lets me pick whatever I want.”

“Steve said Stark did it because he doesn’t know how to apologize like a normal human.”

Barton laughed again. “That’s probably true. Anyway, feel free to come hang out with the rest of us if you want, all right?”

Bucky nodded, and Barton got back up and wandered back through the plane.

 

Romanov was the next one to come over. Bucky was practicing holding each of his new weapons in his hands, getting used to their unusual weight and firing mechanisms.

She moved more quietly than the others. Bucky looked up to find her standing in front of him, carefully watching what he was doing.

Bucky waited, but she didn’t say anything.

Whatever. He could wait for longer than she could.

Sure enough, she spoke a few minutes into their silent staring contest.

“How are you doing?” she asked politely.

Bucky kept his face blank. “Fine.”

“Good to hear it,” she said. “How do you feel about doing this mission with us?”

“Fine,” Bucky said again.

She sighed. Bucky was pretty sure she knew that he was fucking with her.

“I just need to know that you’ll be able to work with us,” Romanov said patiently. “I know how capable you are, but I have to know that you won’t endanger our lives out there.”

Bucky figured she wouldn’t respond well if he jokingly said ‘nah I was gonna kill all of you for fun’. He sat and stared instead.

“All right, I’ll phase it as a question,” Romanov said finally. “Are you going to be able to safely complete this mission with us?”

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“Thank you,” Romanov said. “I appreciate it.”

Bucky waited, but she still didn’t move.

“You know, you don’t have to sit over here all by yourself,” she said.

Bucky sighed.

“Or,” she said with a small smile. “You can if you want to. I get it. We’re kind of overwhelming, as a group. A lot of people talking at once. But if you want to join, you can.”

Bucky nodded, and she finally walked away.

Man, Steve’s friends were weird. And oddly persistent. And strangely concerned with Bucky’s social comfort.

“They aren’t weird,” Steve said with amusement when Bucky told him that. He’d wandered over to sit next to Bucky again. “Well, actually, they’re probably a little weird. But still, you’re the one being surly.”

“I am not being surly,” Bucky protested.

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I’m just… not really used to casual conversation,” Bucky said. “And social niceties.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Bucky made a face at him, and Steve laughed.

“They’ve got food over there, if you want something to eat,” Steve said.

Bucky scowled. “I already ate today, though.”

“You should be eating more than once per day!”

“I don’t need to.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. Even people with normal metabolisms do, and yours isn’t exactly normal. I’m pretty sure you should be eating almost as much as I do.”

“No.”

“Why _not_?” Steve asked, clearly trying to hide his exasperation.

“I’ll throw up if I eat too much at once.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “That’s… that’s a fair reason, I guess.”

“Damn right,” Bucky said.

Steve shook his head at him, but then yawned at the same time.

“You need to sleep,” Bucky said.

“I do not,” Steve protested.

“You didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I tried to!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t manage it,” Bucky said. He patted the floor beside him. “Come on, Steve.”

Steve sighed and crawled forward to sit next to Bucky. He slumped down a little, resting his head against the wall behind them.

“Just a few minutes,” Steve murmured, but his eyes were already closing.

“Sure.”

“Bucky?” Steve said, opening one of his eyes halfway.

“What.”

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Steve smiled a little, and then both of his eyes closed soundly. Bucky picked up another one of his guns and went back to studying it.


	26. Chapter 26

Stark wandered by a while later. He stopped in front of Bucky and stared at Steve, who was now slumped against Bucky’s shoulder. He was still sound asleep, and Bucky had no plan of waking him up any time soon. Bucky himself had just been staring at the opposite wall for the last hour. He was a little bored, but it was nice just… sitting, for a while. Steve’s slow breathing next to him was comforting.

Stark was looking at Steve like he’d grown a second head. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep before. We all usually crash on the way back from a mission, but not him. I feel like he doesn’t trust us all that much. I’m kind of offended.”

“He probably finds it hard to trust people who would x-ray someone without their permission,” Bucky said. Stark jumped a little, like he hadn’t expected Bucky to speak.

Stark winced. “Yeah, uh, about that. Sorry. Really. It wasn’t anything personal. We’re just a little paranoid around here.”

Bucky stayed silent. He’d long since learned that people got very uncomfortable if the person they were talking to didn’t say anything.

“So. Yeah. Sorry,” Stark said. “And it wasn’t an x-ray. For the record.”

“I don’t care,” Bucky said.

Stark frowned. “Okay, fine. Anyway, Cap also explained to me the circumstances under which you thought it would be a good idea to try and assassinate me.”

Bucky tried not to roll his eyes at the use of the word ‘try’.

“And I get it,” Stark said. “Mostly. So let’s just say it’s all water under the bridge, okay?”

Bucky didn’t know what that meant, but he also didn’t care. He stared impassively at Stark.

“All right,” Stark said when the silence grew uncomfortable again. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way.”

He turned and wandered away. Bucky went back to staring at the wall. He dozed for a little while, but kept his eyes open and his body tense the entire time. Even with Steve pressed up against his side, he wasn’t quite comfortable enough to relax.

 

Steve finally woke up three hours later.

He sat up, stretching and wincing. He narrowed his eyes at Bucky.

“That was definitely longer than a few minutes.”

Bucky shrugged. “A few minutes, a few hours. Close enough.”

Steve groaned. “You were supposed to wake me up!”

“I made an executive decision to let you sleep a while longer.”

“Well, I’m making an executive decision not to nap with you anymore,” Steve said grumpily.

“Yeah, right.”

Steve sighed. “Okay, fine. How far away are we?”

Bucky shrugged. He hadn’t been paying attention. “Two hours till we land, I think. Or maybe three.”

Steve got up and wandered over to where everyone else was still gathered. They were looking over a map now, everyone pointing and talking over each other.

Bucky tuned them out again. Apparently Stark had a personal vendetta against Kristoffson. Or was it Romanov who had the vendetta? Somebody did. Either way, it wasn’t Bucky’s problem. They’d tell him the plan when they’d finalized it, and then Bucky would do what he needed to do to finish his mission. Well, and their mission too, but that came second.

Besides, plans were never that useful to Bucky anyway. Even when he’d been with Hydra they’d never mattered much. The end goal was the important part. That was why Bucky had been (still was?) useful. They couldn’t just build a robot to finish their missions for them, because there were always too many damn variables that could change during the actual execution of the plan. Too many things to account for. Even just a small thing, like a shoelace coming undone or someone looking the wrong way at the wrong time.

That’s why Bucky was the best at what he did. He had all the strength anyone could really ever need, all the speed, and all the agility. He also had the ability to assess a situation and make his own decision about how to proceed. If something did go wrong on a mission, which it almost always did, Bucky would adjust accordingly.

He also had possessed no free will, but, well.

He sure as hell had it now.

They touched down a few hours later. The plane settled quietly onto the ground below like a helicopter, and the back of the plane slid open.

Everyone was still talking through the small microphone in Bucky’s ear. He ignored it and rechecked his equipment, starting to shift into his mission mindset.

Bucky was out first. It was raining lightly, and the grass and rocks were damp under his feet. He made his way around across the dark ground.

His task was to cover one of the side entrances of Kristoffson’s estate. It was an unobtrusive small cabin, resting next to the placid water of the fjord.

Steve and the rest of his team were all talking quietly through the earpiece in Bucky’s ear. He ignored it and quietly broke the handle off of the cabin door. There was nothing inside of the cabin, except for the stairs in the floor that disappeared down to another tunnel.

Bucky leaned against the wall and waited.

He distantly heard the sound of explosions and fighting, but it was far away and therefore none of his concern. He stood in the darkness of the cabin and admired the lightweight weapons he carried in both of his hands.

He eventually heard the distinctive noise of someone running through the tunnel towards him. Their breaths were frantic, and it sounded like they kept tripping over their own feet as they ran.

Bucky waited.

To his delight, it was Kristoffson himself. He’d gained weight since Bucky had last seen him, and he already had a bruise swelling on his chin.

Kristoffson made it almost all the way up the stairs before he looked up. He froze with his foot resting on the top step, his eyes wide and terrified.

Bucky smiled politely and then shot him between the eyes.

“Bucky? What was that? Are you okay?” Steve said immediately in Bucky’s ear.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve must have heard the gunshot through Bucky’s earpiece. “Yes. Kristoffson is dead.”

There was silence for a moment.

“But we just got here,” Barton said mournfully.

“What happened to bringing him in alive?” Stark snapped.

“We didn’t say we were going to bring him in alive, we said that we would if it were possible,” Romanov said.

“I wanted to talk to him,” Stark said. “Yeah, the tech down here will be good to bring back, but it’s not going to be as good as if we had him here to tell us about it – “

A blaring alarm screeched through Bucky’s earpiece. The noise also started to reverberate through the tunnel at Bucky’s feet. Bucky sighed and wished that Kristoffson had built his estate aboveground, instead of beneath it.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Barton said.

“Is anyone on level two or lower?” Hill said sharply.

“I am,” Steve said. “I’m down on level four.”

“Nat and I are on level one,” Barton said. “But we’re heading back up now.”

“Stark, Wilson, go pick them up,” Hill said.

“But – “ Stark protested.

“Now,” Hill said. “Steve, you need to get out of there. Right now.”

“How much time do I have?” Steve asked.

“None,” Hill snapped. “Hurry.”

Bucky frowned. He had been dragging Kristoffson’s body out of the cabin, but he paused to stare out at the fjord. The shore curved around a rocky hill, hiding the rest of Kristoffson’s estate from Bucky’s view. The water in the fjord was starting to recede, though, and Bucky could sure as hell see that.

“Shit,” Stark and Wilson said simultaneously.

“Okay, I’m on level three now,” Steve said. “What’s going on? The walls are starting to shake –“

“We may or may not have tripped the self-destruct,” Romanov said.

“Steve, head for the surface,” Hill ordered. “Wilson, pick him up once he makes it there.”

Bucky watched as the water level got lower.

“The doors are all bolted,” Steve said. “There are tons of people down here, I can’t just leave them – “

“Stark, you go in instead of Wilson,” Hill said. “See if you can get those doors open in time – “

There wasn’t going to be time.

Bucky dropped Kristoffson’s body. “Steve, go back down to the fourth floor.”

“What? No,” Hill protested.

Bucky ignored her. “Go down to the third door on the far right hallway. After you go through that door, follow the hallway down to the very end.”

“No, he needs to get back to the surface –“ Hill tried.

“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Steve said. “Bucky, there’s a ton of water down on the fourth floor now – “

“Do you trust me?” Bucky snapped. He was already making his way down the shoreline.

“Yes,” Steve said immediately. “But – “

“Steve, you need to go _up_ the stairs, not back down,” Hill snapped.

“Bucky, there’s a lot of water down here,” Steve said with a trace of alarm in his voice. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“Steve!” Hill, Romanov, and Stark all said at once.

A loud boom echoed from deep underground, echoing off the mountains surrounding the fjord. Bucky sped up.

“Shit,” Steve said. It sounded like he was heading through the doors that Bucky had told him to go for.

“Steve, I’m not going to make it before that entire building fills up with water,” Bucky said as he jumped from rock to rock. “You’re going to have to hold your breath.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but Bucky doubted he was too fond of that plan.

“I’ll get you out,” Bucky promised.

“Okay,” Steve said. A moment later, the roar of the water rushing into the building drowned out anything else he was going to say.

“This whole thing is going under,” Stark said. “It’ll take me hours to get down to where Steve is – “

“Get moving,” Hill snapped. “I’ll send Banner in.”

“Barnes, I’m heading over to you,” Wilson said. “You better have a good plan, dude, because from where I am it looks a hell of a lot like this entire complex just got flooded with ocean water.”

“It did,” Bucky said.

He finally reached the boulder that he was looking for. It sat on the edge of the shore, large and jagged.

Bucky scrambled around it, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the hatch buried into the rocky beach. Bucky pulled at its handle with his left arm just as Wilson landed behind him.

The hatch ripped open with a groan. It was filled to the brim with salty ocean water.

It was also horrifically cold. Bucky gritted his teeth as he reached down with his right arm, the cold lacing though his muscles and up into his shoulders.

He felt Steve’s hand clasp his, and Bucky pulled. Steve scrambled out of the hatch, his clothes soaked through and his skin an unhealthy white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's like that guy who you invite to your party and instead of hanging out with everyone else, he just sits in the corner and plays with your cat instead of socializing 
> 
> [me on tumblr](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)


	27. Chapter 27

Bucky hauled Steve onto the ground next to him. Sam grabbed Steve’s other arm and helped Bucky drag him away from the hatch.

Steve was still breathing, but he coughed and choked as he tried to the water that had entered his lungs out. Sam knelt next to him, keeping a steadying hand on his back as he coughed.

Steve’s skin was a deathly white, and his lips were blue. His clothes were waterlogged, and had to be just as cold as the ocean water.

Steve’s coughing finally slowed, but his breathing was still ragged and uneven.

“Steve?” Sam asked carefully. Steve was still kneeling on the ground, his face blank and his eyes staring at nothing.

Steve suddenly lurched away from Sam’s comforting hand, scrambling backward over the rocky ground.

“Woah, Steve, it’s okay,” Sam said, holding his hands up. Steve stared at him, his face vacant and confused.

“Steve,” Bucky said. Steve turned to look at him, his breathing speeding up again.

“Bucky?” Steve asked in between rough breaths.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He reached down and hauled Steve to his feet. Steve stumbled against him, most of his weight pressing down on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky could feel him trembling.

“Can I help?” Sam asked, looking at Bucky.

“Finish up here,” Bucky told him. “I’ll take him back to the plane.”

Sam nodded, but he watched Steve anxiously as Bucky dragged him away.

Steve stumbled next to him, his hands fisted in Bucky’s jacket.

“I can’t breathe,” he mumbled as they walked.

“Yes, you can,” Bucky said. “I can hear your lungs. They’re fine.”

“No,” Steve said, and started trembling harder. “No, there’s too much water.”

“You’re out of the water. Your clothes are just wet, that’s why you’re still cold.”

“I can’t breathe,” Steve said again.

“Sorry to break it to you, bud, but you _are_ breathing,” Bucky said, although he sped up a little. “You wouldn’t be able to talk if you couldn’t breathe. Or walk.”

They finally made it back to the plane, and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. One of Stark’s employees lowered the back ramp for them, and Bucky dragged Steve into the plane. The warmth of the air didn’t seem to do anything to shake Steve out of his stupor.

Bucky made his way to the other side of the plane, where a row of doors led into various small rooms. Several of them were washrooms, complete with showers.

Bucky pulled Steve into one of them, and shut the door behind them. It wasn’t a large room, by any means, but it was big enough that the two of them could fit inside it.

Bucky reached into the shower and turned it on, please to find that the water was hot. He was also pleased that he could actually manage to turn the water to the hot setting instead of the cold one. Small victories.

“Clothes off,” he said to Steve. Steve was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and his eyes wide. He was still shuddering.

Bucky sighed and grabbed Steve’s arms, forcing him to uncross them. He unzipped Steve’s jacket and pulled it off him. Steve did absolutely nothing to help.

Getting Steve’s thick shirt off was another task. His clothes were painfully cold, and clung to his skin. Bucky finally gently pushed Steve’s head down and pulled the shirt roughly over his head.

“Okay, you can take your own pants off,” Bucky told him. “I’m not going to do that for you.”

Steve blinked at him.

“Steve,” Bucky prompted.

Steve seemed to come back to himself a little, and finally finished getting the rest of his clothes off. Bucky pushed him into the shower.

“I’ll be right back,” Bucky said.

Steve turned to look at him, ignoring the way that the hot water from the shower ran down his face. “Bucky? Don’t go.”

“I’m just getting you some new clothes,” Bucky said patiently. “Just get warmed up.”

“Bucky,” Steve said desperately.

“I’ll be less than a minute,” Bucky promised. He ducked out of the washroom and headed over to the storage lockers. He found the one with Steve’s extra clothes and then headed back.

Steve was still standing under the water. He visibly relaxed when Bucky came back in.

“There,” Bucky said. He dropped the clothes down onto the counter, and started searching through the cabinets for towels. “Less than a minute. Just like I said.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He was still shaking, even though the colour had started returning to his face.

Bucky shrugged off his own jacket and shirt. They too were damp, from where Bucky had stuck his arm into the water and also from having Steve lean against him. Bucky grabbed one of Steve’s extra shirts and pulled it on.

“You about ready to get out of there?” Bucky asked. “There’s other people on this plane, they’re going to think we’re fucking in here if you don’t get out soon.”

Steve turned to look at him through the now-fogged glass of the shower. “Bucky?”

“Yes,” Bucky said.

“Where are we?”

Bucky winced. “We’re on Stark’s plane, Steve.”

Steve turned off the shower. Bucky handed him a fluffy white towel as he got out.

Steve dried himself off and started getting dressed in the clothes that Bucky had sent out for him. The colour was back in his face, and he’d finally stopped shaking. His breathing was still a little rough, but it was much more even than it had been before.

“What happened?” Steve asked, once he was dressed again.

“Uh,” Bucky said. “Which part?”

Steve twisted the towel around in his hands. “I remember going into the house, and then I went down into that whole building underneath it. There were lots of weird weapons and tech down there.”

Bucky waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Well,” Bucky said slowly. “From what I could tell, you guys tripped the self-destruct. The whole building flooded with water from the ocean.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He started carefully folding the towel, still not meeting Bucky’s eyes.

“Me and Hill had a little disagreement on where you should go. She wanted you to go back up the stairs but you wouldn’t have had time. I told you to go out a different exit route, and then I pulled you out there. But you were in the water for a while.”

Steve unfolded the towel and started folding it again. “Ah. That would… yeah.”

Bucky folded his arms. “I figured you wouldn’t like it all that much, but I didn’t think you’d have that much of a problem with it.”

Steve sighed. “It’s… it’s from the plane. When I crashed it. But it’s not really a problem. It rarely happens.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. Steve studiously ignored him.

“Did anyone see?” Steve asked. “How did we… how did we get back here?”

“Sam did,” Bucky said. “I think he knew what was going on.”

“Probably,” Steve agreed.

“I told him to go help everyone else finish up, and then I took you back here.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “For, um. Helping me.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “You good now?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Steve said firmly. “Really. I just… I just don’t like cold water.”

From the loud sound of voices that suddenly echoed through the plane, Bucky figured that everyone else had returned.

“Come on,” Steve said. His smile was only slightly forced. “We should go out there. Otherwise they’ll think we’re fucking.”

“We are, though,” Bucky said as Steve pushed him out the door. “Just not right at this moment.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

 

Bucky went back to sitting on the ground by the storage lockers. He was tired now, although there no chance in hell that he was going to fall asleep on the plane. He didn’t pay attention to the mission debriefing, letting the sound of the others talking wash over him.

Steve came by a while later. He brought Bucky a plate stacked with food, and then sat down next to him as Bucky picked at it.

“I think I’m done,” Steve said abruptly.

“Done what?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of muffin.

“This,” Steve said. He gestured around the plane. “All of this.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, really. I haven’t figured out it yet. But I think I’m just… done.”

“With your Avengers thing?” Bucky said. “Or planes? Or missions? Or life in general?”

“Well,” Steve said thoughtfully. “I’m not done with the Avengers. I’m not just going to leave them high and dry if they need help. If aliens attack again or something, I’ll be here to help.”

“But…” Bucky prompted.

“But,” Steve continued. “All of these… side missions. Following Tony around, doing whatever Maria tells me to do. Doing sneaky little things for Coulson, getting random phone calls from Fury in the middle of the night. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Buck. When I was looking for you, I had a purpose. But now you’re here, and I don’t want… I don’t want to just keep dragging you around with me. Doing things like this.”

Bucky moved on to his second muffin. “Okay.”

Steve stared at him. “That’s it?”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. What you’re saying makes sense. You don’t owe anybody, Steve. You should do whatever you want.”

Steve smiled. It was a genuine smile, one that Bucky hadn’t even realized he had missed until this moment.

“You think?” Steve asked. “I mean, I don’t really know where to go from here, but… it’s a start.”

“Yes,” Bucky said. “Steve?”

“What?”

“Do you…” Bucky said slowly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Steve looked slightly offended. “What? Of course I do. I thought that was a given.”

“All right, all right,” Bucky said. “I was just checking.”

Steve smiled again. “So. We’re leaving?”

“We’re leaving,” Bucky confirmed.

Steve grabbed a muffin from the plate and slid over to sit next to Bucky against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This lil fic is wrapping itself up, just to let you know!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh sorry I took so long to post this last little chapter. real life stuff ugh

They got out of the city two days later.

They took Steve’s car, packed with just enough supplies for a few days. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief as they got out of the city.

Going overseas wasn’t really an option. They _could_ have gotten onto a plane without being noticed if they really tried, but neither of them really had the energy to sneak past airport security. Steve brought up the idea of asking Tony for the use of his jet, but Bucky didn’t like the idea of anyone else knowing where they were.

They had no destination in mind, no real plans. They drove for a long time, stopping in motels occasionally. Sometimes they just slept in the car, or alternated drivers so that they could keep going.

Bucky felt safest while they were driving. He slept for most of the day in the car, and then would wake up at night and take over the wheel.

Eventually, they started stopping for longer periods of time. They’d spend a few days in a city at a time, and once even spent three weeks in the same seedy motel. They kept to mid-size cities, preferably ones with lower densities. It was too difficult to blend in in small towns, and so they stuck to places where they could go unnoticed. They normally stayed out in the suburbs, away from tall buildings.

Steve kept a cell phone with him, in case the others needed to get in touch. Aside from the occasional text from Sam, there were no drastic emergencies that required Steve’s presence.

They didn’t do all that much. Steve threw around some half-hearted ideas about going to see some famous landmarks, but Bucky got twitchy when he thought about being in such well-known places.

They ended up just… resting, mostly. They’d hole up in a town or a city for a week or so, and just sleep. Occasionally they’d go for walks around the countryside or the forests. Both of them enjoyed that.

They figured out pretty quickly that the television gave Bucky headaches, and so they mostly just read or slept. It wasn’t exciting, but neither of them cared.

It wasn’t perfect. Neither of them really knew how to relax. How to just… be. They were learning, though, albeit a little slowly.

There was an entire week where Bucky stopped talking. He couldn’t explain why, and even he didn’t know what had set it off. It freaked Steve out to no end, but there was nothing either of them could do about it.

Steve packed all of their stuff up overnight and they left the next morning. It was a full seven days before Bucky spoke another word. When Steve asked him why, the best answer Bucky could come up with was ‘I didn’t feel like talking.’

Bucky continued to work on doing things for himself. He could have hot showers now, and he even managed to get to a point where he could let Steve touch his back without discomfort. He thought he was doing pretty well with the whole ‘normal life’ thing.

Well, mostly. He still had to check their hotel rooms and cabins and apartment for bugs or security breaches at least a few times a night. He still had days where he woke up feeling like his mind was on fire, and all he wanted to do was hit something until he didn’t feel anything anymore.

The nice thing was that on those days, he could just do whatever he wanted. Usually he would just go for a walk or a run, until his mind wasn’t as loud and he could just collapse next to Steve on their bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

Steve was… well, he was Steve. Bucky worried about him a lot.

He was clearly much happier being with Bucky and being out of the city. He smiled often, he laughed a lot, and he was already back in the habit of dealing out crushing amounts of sarcasm.

He was also very much the Steve that Bucky remembered. He walked around like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and spent a lot of his nights staring at the ceiling with guilt-heavy eyes. It didn’t matter how many times Bucky tried to talk sense into him. Steve continued to be under the misguided assumption that he should be out in the world helping people, not selfishly taking time to hang out with Bucky in a random town in Missouri or Texas.

Steve still had problems with sleeping. He actually had far more nightmares than Bucky did, or at least was louder about it. It was a rare night where the two of them would actually manage to sleep all the way through.

Steve’s issues actually seemed to be getting a little bit worse, as Bucky’s gradually started to get better. To Bucky, it looked like the floodgates that had been holding back everything that Steve had been dealing with were finally starting to crack open.

Every second night, Steve would wake up screaming. It sometimes took him hours to calm down, despite Bucky sitting next to him helplessly. Even during the day, he seemed to nearly vibrate with stress.

He would run for hours every day, sometimes even leaving Bucky in the dust. Occasionally, Steve’s morning run would end in him having a panic attack on the side of the road. Bucky would kneel next to him and keep his hand on Steve’s back, both of them watching the sun rise as they sat on the cold pavement.

Bucky sometimes tried to suggest that Steve go back. That he should go and talk to Sam. Maybe get some real help. Every time, Steve would just panic more and stubbornly refuse.

“This is enough,” he would say. “This… this is what I need.”

Bucky didn’t press the issue. They continued on as they had been, travelling aimlessly with no goal in mind.

They woke up when they wanted to, and slept when they chose. No one dictated what they did and did not do anymore, not even the rise and fall of the sun each day. Neither of them read the newspaper or watched tv broadcasts. They wandered through bookstores on their way through each town and city, grabbing random books off the shelf and reading them throughout the night. Sometimes Steve would read to Bucky as he drove, or late at night when Bucky couldn’t fall asleep. Bucky still struggled with reading his own books sometimes, his scattered mind unable to follow the neat lines of the words for more than a few minutes at a time. Steve would read aloud then, too. Neither of them minded.

By the time six months had gone by, things were getting a little more stable. There were less nights filled with nightmares. Fewer days full of Bucky’s rage and Steve’s sadness. More moments of calm tranquility. More moments of actual living.

Of course, it didn’t last. Neither Steve nor Bucky had expected it to.

Nine months after they’d left, Steve’s phone rang in the middle of the afternoon.

Bucky was sitting on the steps of the small house that they’d rented on the edge of a reedy lake. He was leaning against the outside of the house, a torn-up book in his hand.

Steve was stretched out on the porch, his eyes closed and his face turned upward towards the sun.

They both sat up as Steve’s phone rang. Bucky looked over at Steve, and Steve slowly opened his eyes.

“I’ll pack our stuff up,” Bucky said. Steve rolled out of his way, and Bucky got up and went into the house. He heard Steve answer the call.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back in the car and pulling onto the highway.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve said a few minutes later. He stared out the front window.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “But you want to.”

“Well,” Steve said. “We _have_ had a pretty long vacation.”

“Mmm,” Bucky said. “It was pretty nice while it lasted, though.”

“Maybe we can go back after this,” Steve said thoughtfully. “I really liked that last cabin.”

“I liked the one in Minnesota better.”

“Nah,” Steve said calmly. “The lake was nicer at this one.”

“The actual cabin was better in Minnesota.”

“Fine, we can go to both,” Steve said.

They kept talking as they drove, the highway stretching out in front of them. Bucky didn’t bother to ask what the emergency back in New York was. He’d find out when they got there. For now, this was okay.

Things weren’t perfect, and certainly never would be. But what they had then… it was better than okay. It was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW that's it that's the end. 
> 
> Well, sort of. I've actually got a prequel (that ended up being way too long) and a sequel to this. Both of them were almost completely ready to go, except that I decided at the last minute to completely change the POV and now I have to rewrite both. Anyway, the point is that this is NOT actually the end of all of this and you'll see me here again soon. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments and messages and kudos on this. I apparently require copious amounts of validation to do ANYTHING and y'all have certainly given me my fill. I appreciate everything you guys have taken the time to say to me about this fic. You all have been so kind and wonderful and I love each and every one of you. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this, and if you want to stick around for the prequel and sequel I'd love you for that too!
> 
> I'm on tumblr [here](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com) if you want to come hang out there. 
> 
> I'm going to go hit that 'Post Without Preview' button now YES.


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